The Beginning of Reality
by amightypenguin
Summary: When Harry Potter cannot be awakened from a self induced dream state, can his Auror partner Draco Malfoy find a way to wake him before an unforeseen threat in Harry's mind destroys them both?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Written as a gift for taradiane for hd_holidays on livejournal in 2010.**_

* * *

**When we are dreaming alone it is only a dream. When we are dreaming with others, it is the beginning of reality. - Dom Helder Camara**

_This was more than just underage, uncontrolled magic. This was more than he had ever worked with before. The child he saw before him knew how to handle her father's stolen wand. There was calculation in her eyes as she methodically pointed at various things – furniture, vases, portraits - and blew them to smithereens. _

"_Madeline, no!" her terrified mother moaned. "Please, no!"_

_Madeline, her small round face cracking into an evil grin, pointed the wand at the living room wall and blew a hole the size of a cannonball right in the middle with a shuddering explosion. _

_Draco looked at his partner. This was worse than they had ever encountered. Potter looked completely bewildered – not a good sign. He was always good with children. That was what they did, after all. They helped them. Potter calmed them, spoke to them, while Draco looked into their minds and put blocks on excess magic until they learned how to control it. But this little girl was doing more than uncontrolled magic. _

"_You're supposed to be doing something!" the father roared. "So do something!"_

"_Madeline," Potter said calmly. Madeline pointed the wand at him and in answer sent a jet of red light right between Potter's eyes. It was easily deflected, but the intent was more startling than the actual attack. Why would a child, a five year old child, want to harm anything?_

"_Potter, I don't think your calming techniques will do any good just now," Draco said. Madeline then blew out the glass in the windows – all at once._

"_I don't know what to do," Potter replied urgently. "I don't think she's acting under her own free will!"_

"_You think?" Draco said sarcastically._

"_What could have gotten into her?" Potter asked, deflecting another magical attack as Madeline started to giggle. It was the most horrific noise that Draco had ever heard out of the mouth of a child. "If she's possessed by something, we need to expel it before it hurts her."_

"_I don't think it wants to hurt her," Draco replied. "I think it wants to use her to hurt others."_

"_Either way, we need to get rid of it!"_

_Madeline made a slashing motion with the wand and a great tear appeared in the wall, ripping through the wood. _

"_Well come on then," Draco said. Exorcis: He'd witnessed it before when a mad ghost took over the body of a Muggle a few years ago. They had to draw the spirit out with magic. It was not an easy process and the poor man had been sicker than a groom after a bachelor party. "Hold her still, I'll draw it out."_

_A sofa exploded, sending pieces of stuffing and wood in all directions. Draco threw himself to the floor just as a nail sliced through the air where his head had been. _

"_You want me to try to hold onto her?" Potter demanded. "How the hell am I supposed to get close to her?"_

_Draco looked across the floor at him and frowned. The parents, sobbing uncontrollably, crawled out of the room for better shelter._

"_I don't care how you do it, but do it fast before she blows up the house! You're the bloody Gryffindor, just rush her!"_

_Potter gave him a dirty look, but Draco didn't much care. They had a job to do. Potter leapt to his feet and launched himself across the room to the small girl. She shrieked and drew back her wand to curse him, but he was faster. Draco came up to his knees, prepared to perform the spell, but then something odd happened. _

_As soon as Potter touched the bare skin of the child's hands, they both went limp, falling to the floor._

"_Potter!" Draco's cry was oddly loud in the suddenly silent room. He hurried over to both fallen forms in a panic, reaching them just as they both started to stir._

_Madeline made a noise, like a kitten waking from a nightmare. Potter sat up, his face scrunched slightly. _

"_Madeline?" he said kindly, raising a hand to his head._

"_Mummy," the girl said, her high voice shaking with tears. "Mummy!"_

_The mother came barreling in and practically flattened Draco to get to her daughter. He and Potter watched the tearful family reunion in bemusement._

"_That's it?" Draco said._

"_Ah… apparently?" Potter replied. Draco heard something in his voice, something not quite right._

"_You alright?" he asked, looking sideways at his partner. Potter's already-mussed hair was standing in all directions and his eyes were a little distant._

"_Headache," Potter replied. "Mother of all headaches. So it looks as if we're done here, eh?"_

"_I'm not sure exactly what we did," Draco said. "Or rather, what you did."_

"_Me either, but it looks like everything's fine now."_

_Madeline was squashed between her two parent's embraces and crying. Actually, they were all crying. The wand she'd used for her destruction of the house was lying feet away, totally forgotten. Later, after leaving a card in case Madeline started acting strangely again and accepting many heartfelt thanks from the girl's tired parents, Draco and Potter stopped outside the house in the pretty little neighborhood. From the outside, it looked just like the rest – a quaint cottage with cheerful Christmas decorations all over the front door and windows._

"_Truly an odd case," Draco murmured, turning to face Potter._

"_Yeah," Potter said. He still looked pained._

"_Are you going to be alright?"_

"_Yeah, I'll just head home and take a potion. Get to bed. See you in the morning for the briefing."_

"_What, exactly, should we say? We didn't really do anything."_

"_I don't know. You're the brain."_

"_Oh, thanks ever so much."_

_Potter smiled, winced, and said good-night. He spun on his heel and vanished with a sharp crack._

**Malfoy – **

**Your partner, Potter, has been sent to St. Mungo's. He appears to be in some sort of coma. He's in a restricted ward so that the general public won't get wind of his situation. Our briefing about last night's case is cancelled until further notice. We'll reschedule at some future date, when both you and Potter can be there. I firmly believe he'll be awake soon. Feel free to take the day off and visit him and learn what you can from the Healers. I'll want to be kept updated.**

**Sincerely,**

**Kingsley Shacklebolt**

**Head of the Magical Law Enforcement **

Draco Malfoy had been in love with Harry Potter since the beginning. Of course, back in school and only eleven years old, it was easy for a young boy to mistake love for loathing. Strong emotions were never easy to pin down. When he was twelve those strong emotions turned to hormones, but he figured at that age you could get hard over anything. Getting hard over the thought of Potter wasn't that big of a deal. He got hard thinking of broccoli. It wasn't until he was sixteen that he realized that his loathing was really love in disguise. And then he was truly fucked. There was no way he could have any sort of chance with the Savior of the Wizarding World, especially when he was on the opposite side, however reluctantly that may be.

Then the war was over. He had to jump through numerous hoops to get his name cleared, but he was a free man. Then he was an Auror. And then he ended up Potter's partner. Any sort of hope he had, however, died when Ginevra Weasley repeatedly came in, day after day, to share her lunch with Potter. They were so cute it made Draco rather nauseas.

At the start Draco and Potter bickered constantly. Anything and everything, they snapped at each other about it. Soon their animosity turned to admiration for each other's work, but it felt wrong not to bicker at least a little. Potter would snap at him, Draco would snark back. It became routine. Now their working relationship consisted of working cases together, working closely together, respecting each other, and still bickering like an old married couple. It was the best time of Draco's life, even if he had to watch the man he loved eat and flirt with a woman every day. At least he got to see him smile, to live. In school he'd always looked haunted.

And now he looked dead.

Had Draco not seen the monitor above Potter's head with the little line that showed a heart rate, accompanied by a soft beep, Draco would have been sure his partner was gone. He was pale, his mouth was slack, and he didn't move. The only movement was the almost too-slow inhalations through his nose.

"Ron found him," said the tearful voice of Hermione Granger. "Thought he was just having a lie-in. I've never seen Ron so panicked as when he Floo-called me and told me Harry wouldn't wake up."

Draco nodded, feeling hollow and never looking away from Potter's face. His mouth was slightly open. Weasley was in a chair next to the hospital bed, looking lost and confused – his usual expression. Severus Snape, who had always been intimidating, had only gotten more so after a stray Cutting Hex in the final battle ripped up the left side of his face and ruined his eye. He was standing in a corner, having yet to say a word since Draco had arrived moments before. The eye-patch oddly suited his face. Now he looked even more forbidding. Draco was almost glad the man didn't teach Potions anymore. If he'd walked into that face his first year, he probably would have walked right back out again. Snape's attendance set Draco's teeth on edge. He only ever graced the world with his presence as a last resort.

"We called for help," Granger continued. "In the end it was decided to bring him here, in case there was something wrong medically with him that we just couldn't identify. But they can't find anything. He's perfectly fine, physically. So I tried Legilimens, to possibly get into his mind and tell him he needed to wake up, but there was a wall."

Draco pulled his eyes away from Potter to look at Granger. He frowned. "What?"

She gave him a helpless look and nodded. "Literally, a wall. It looks like it extends in every direction and he won't let me in."

"He's Occluding?"

"Forcefully." Draco, Granger, and Weasley all turned and looked at Snape. He shrugged. "Granger contacted me. I had a look. He seems to have finally learned to control his thoughts. Unfortunately, I believe that he's done it so… vigorously that he's completely shut himself down in order to protect his mind."

"From what?" Draco asked.

"I have no idea. But obviously he senses a threat and has acted. I cannot reach his thoughts at all."

"You?" Draco said, torn between amusement at Snape's irritation and bafflement. If the most powerful Legilimens alive couldn't reach Potter… what could they do? "There are absolutely no holes, no cracks in the wall?"

"None. And if I cannot find them, they do not exist. Potter's done a bang-up job, as per usual."

Draco's lips curved but he wasn't amused. If there was no way to wake Potter, then he was basically in a coma. There was nothing to be done. But he wasn't in a coma. He was asleep.

"There has to be a way to wake him up," he said finally. "There has to. He's _sleeping._"

"I've shaken him," Weasley said hopelessly. "I've smacked him, I've thrown water on him, I've performed Stinging, Pinching, and Giggling hexes. Nothing seems to affect him."

Baffled, angry, and unaccountably nervous, Draco began to pace. Rubbing the spot between his eyes, he tried to calm himself. There was an answer. Somewhere. He had two of the brightest minds in the Wizarding World on his side. Between them, and his own talents with the minds of others (even if they were children), he was positive they'd find an answer. But first, he had to know what he was up against.

"I'm going to have a look as well," he said finally. "I want an idea of what we're trying to overcome."

Granger nodded and stepped out of his way. She looked so… sad. As though she was lost. Acting on impulse Draco touched her shoulder.

"We'll figure it out," he said softly. Her eyes warmed. She'd been the first, before even Potter, to be accepting of him when he and Potter had been forced together as Aurors. Granger, working as a secretary for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was always about and treated him like a friend. Merlin knew he hadn't deserved it, after the way he'd treated her in school. But Granger was one of those inherently nice people. No one would accuse Draco of being the same.

He approached Potter's side and withdrew his wand. He focused his thoughts and prepared himself for a vision of Potter's mind.

But he did not see a vision. One moment he was standing in a private room in St. Mungo's, and the next he was in a desert, standing before a never-ending wall of grey stone.

Draco had used Legilimency multiple times in his career. It was a handy spell. So with his job, he knew what Legilimency usually looked like. Never before had he been drawn into another person's mind. It felt, physically, as if he had been transported. And now he was standing on the brink of Potter's mind, facing a huge wall.

Snape was right. There were no holes. No cracks. The foundation was strong. As far as Draco could tell, there was no visual way of getting through. He was more confused than he cared to admit. How had he gotten there? How did he get out? Very valid concerns. He'd rather not spend a great deal of time wandering the deserted recesses of Potter's subconscious.

He was startled into crying out when Granger suddenly appeared at his side.

"Granger!" he gasped. "How did you get here? How did _I_ get here?"

She ignored him and approached the wall, touching it with a focused look. "See?" she said. "It's very solid and I can't figure out how to get in."

"I think that's the point, Granger."

She gave him an arch look, still touching the wall. He approached and gingerly touched the grey stone. It was rough, like the stones of Hogwarts. It had the same aged look but even up close, there were no cracks.

"How did he do this?" Draco wondered. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor I," Granger replied. Obviously frustrated, she smacked the wall and then shoved herself away. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to calm down when suddenly the wall, where his hand still rested, wavered.

Ignoring the urge to snatch his hand back, Draco focused on where his hand met stone. But it suddenly didn't feel like stone any longer. It had the consistency of the beanbag chair that Potter had set in the corner of their cubicle. It gave slightly under his hand as he pushed gently.

"Granger, look at this," he said. She came to his side and then gasped.

"It's shifting!" she exclaimed. "It's moving for you… but not for me." Sure enough, the wall, when she touched it, remained hard. "Why?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

Her face suddenly became harsh. "Fine. Just try to get in, will you? Maybe I can follow."

There was an odd glint to her eyes that he'd never seen before but before he had a chance to really look, the wall suddenly gave way completely and he fell through. It felt almost like getting onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He didn't have time to steady himself and so landed on his side on the ground. The spongy, soft ground. Bewildered, he looked around.

And found himself on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch.

Draco drew in a shaky breath. The air was cold and crisp in his lungs. The sky was a bright, brilliant blue without a cloud to be seen. The stands were empty apart from a handful of people milling about, chattering to their friends. The Gryffindor house Quidditch team were all up on their brooms. It looked like practice. A wave of nostalgia kicked in and Draco briefly wished he could go back to this time, when life was no more complicated than getting to his next class.

There was a soft thump to his right and he looked over. His jaw dropped. There was Potter, all right. He couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen. It was before his growth spurt. Short, skinny, and pale, Potter marched up to him with pure animosity in his eyes.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Potter demanded. "It's our time on the pitch."

"What?" Draco replied. "Potter, it's me. You let me in."

"I did not!" Potter cried out indignantly. "Why would I let _you_ into _our_ practice? Get out, Malfoy, or else."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, _Or else what?_ Funny how just the smallest nudge could bring back childish animosity. Seeing Potter like this, like a teen in his old school uniform, brought back even more memories of fights, insults. And other things he refused to think on. But there were more important matters. Potter, it seems, had shielded himself so forcefully that he actually believed he was a teenager at Hogwarts again. Draco bit back impatience. He would simply have to push Potter into remembering his life.

"Potter, you're dreaming," Draco said quickly, taking a step forward. He was met with the end of Potter's wand. There was a look in Potter's eye that Draco recognized from school. It was the look that meant Potter really, _really_ wanted to hex him. "This is a _dream._"

"What are you on about?" Potter demanded. Weasley landed right next to Potter and dismounted his broom. Clueing into the scene, he pulled out his wand as well. _Perfect_, Draco thought in irritation.

"Potter, this isn't real," Draco said calmly. "This is a dream-state. One you created to protect yourself."

"You're barking," Potter said with a sneer. "Absolutely mad."

Draco groaned in frustration and dropped his head, whereupon he saw his clothes. He wasn't dressed in school uniform, Quidditch robes or otherwise. He was in his normal robes. Grey and black. He looked at his hands. There, on his right hand, was a scar he'd received when, on a case a few years ago, an angry six year-old had made a vase explode and a piece of glass had cut his palm. Heart rate picking up, he looked at Potter with a grin.

"Potter, how old do I look?" he asked.

"What?"

"How old would you say I look?"

"You're our age," he said, but his eyes suddenly looked confused. "No, that's not right, is it? You're… Hold on. You're older. You can't be. What is going on?"

"I told you, you're in a dream state," Draco said. "A mental projection. You need to wake up so that we can go back to work."

"Work?" Potter said in shock. "We work together?"

"Yeah," Draco said, his frustration rising once more. "We're partners, remember?"

"_What?_" This time it was Weasley who spoke. "What did you say? Partners in what?"

"Auror partners," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Come on, Potter, you need to focus. Remember. Then wake up, I want to go home."

"How the bloody hell did we end up as partners?" Potter asked incredulously.

Draco was baffled. This shouldn't be this hard. They were in Potter's subconscious. All the memories should be here. Why would he have reverted so far? Why would he refuse to remember?

"Okay," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "We both became Aurors-"

"What about me?" Weasley demanded.

"No, you went off to do something else," Draco said sharply. "I still am not quite sure just what it is you do. Now shut up a second."

Weasley bristled but Potter looked intrigued. Not trusting, but interested.

"There was a case involving a bunch of kids," Draco continued, looking only at Potter. That face, that young, earnest face. So many memories tied to that face. "At the time, we weren't partners. Aurors usually don't have partners. We both showed up, thinking it was a drug ring and that back-up would be needed to take all the targets out with a minimum of fuss. But it wasn't drugs they were selling. It was kids."

"What, like to people who wanted kids but couldn't have any?" Potter asked.

"No," Draco said with a sad shake of his head. He really didn't want to have to think about it, to remember those children locked in a basement with no light or food. "No, Potter. As slaves. Sex slaves to perverts."

Potter gasped and turned away. Then something strange happened. The pitch, the people, even Weasley began to blur slightly. Encouraged, Draco continued.

"We were the only ones on scene, no one else had gotten there yet. We secured most of the offenders, but some got away. We got them later. But the kids, Potter. You… I don't know how you do it, but they trust you. They like you. You got them to tell you what happened. But there were some who were so traumatized that I had to suppress certain memories." Draco cringed, remembering what he had seen in their minds. "They were a danger to themselves and others, so I helped them. And you, you just knew how to handle them. How to treat them. Shacklebolt saw how well we worked together and paired us up."

"But I want to catch Dark wizards, that's my dream," Potter said, looking a little sick. "I don't want… I don't think I could interact with perverts or pedophiles."

"Potter," Draco said calmly. "Not all Dark wizards do Dark magic. What we do, what you do, I think, is more important."

The pitch melted further. All the people vanished. Now they were surrounded more by splotches of color than an actual environment.

"We also catch Dark wizards," Draco continued. "We do a bit of everything, but kids, underage magic or trauma victims, we specialize in that."

"So…" Potter trailed off, but turned back to look at Draco. He didn't look as young anymore. Now he appeared about twenty. He'd shot up about eight inches and he was wearing Auror robes. He looked exactly like he had that first night they worked together. "I remember. I was in awe of what you could do. Now anytime there's a case involving kids, we're the first ones called."

"Exactly," Draco said, relieved.

"Don't listen to him!"

He and Potter turned to see Granger running up. Her eyes were frantic. "Harry, don't listen to a word he says!"

"What, why?" Potter asked. "I remember, I know he's telling the truth!"

"No!" Granger yelled. "You're safe here, in Hogwarts. Why should you listen to that ferret, anyway? He's the son of a Death Eater! He could be planting these thoughts into your brain!"

_Fucking Granger_, Draco thought angrily and their surroundings began to sharpen to look like the pitch once more. Potter was regressing, becoming younger as his mind immediately began to trust his projection of Granger. _Always like that in school, always mouthing off. _He looked over at her furiously but stopped. She was wearing her secretary's uniform. She was not a teen, but a full-grown woman.

Why would Granger, the Granger he knew, want Potter to stay asleep? And why would she do it like this? Trying to pit Potter against him? The answer was simple. She wouldn't. Then who was this? A projection of Potter's mind? Or something else? Draco heart stuttered. What if this was what had caused Potter to shut him down? What if this was an attacker?

"Potter, don't trust her," Draco said quickly.

"Why?" Potter demanded, lifting his wand against Draco once more.

"That's right," Granger said gleefully. "Throw him out."

_Throw him out?_ She knew were in a dream. She wanted Potter to get rid of him, throw him out of Potter's mind. And for Potter to stay asleep.

"Potter, I think she's the reason you've shut down your mind."

"Why would I do that? I'm your best friend, Harry!"

"Think about what I just told you!"

"No, think about where you are! You're in Hogwarts, the safest place in the world! Get rid of him!"

"Potter, look at her!" Draco cried. "She's a woman, not a teen! She's not your friend! Wouldn't she be a teenager, like you, if this place was real?" Potter kept looking between them, his head moving back and forth and his eyes baffled. "Potter," Draco said entreatingly. "Remember Joshua O'Malley."

Potter's eyes dropped and he gasped. "Josh… he was one of those kids. He was the first to trust me."

"He called you Uncle Harry," Draco said softly. "He still does. You get owls from him all the time and visit him at his new home with his foster parents, though you think I don't know. He's the reason you kept helping kids, the reason you agreed to be my partner. You couldn't stand the thought that more kids could be like that, abused and tortured."

Potter looked at Granger, who made a face like she had just sucked a lemon. Potter seemed to have made a decision because suddenly he was no longer a teen. He was a man, the man Draco knew. But he looked scared and confused. The image of the pitch wavered again.

"Where are we?" Potter asked. "What's happening?"

"You're dreaming, Potter," Draco said, coming up to his side and grasping his arm. "You need to wake up."

"NO!" The projection of Granger screamed. "No, you're not dreaming! This is real! Stay here, where you are!"

"No, Potter, you need to wake up!" Draco said. "She's lying, she wants something from you and wants you asleep to attain it!"

"You fool," she hissed. "You pathetic fool! I've had enough!"

Draco only had a moment to react. Granger let out an unholy screech and aimed her wand. Without conscious thought, Draco yanked on Potter. He shoved away the melting vision of Potter's mind and hastily created his own. He felt like he was falling, yet flying at the same time. Potter wrapped his arm around Draco's middle and held on for dear life as millions of images and sounds rushed by them. Thinking of a place, a safe place, Draco focused.

And found them, wrapped around each other, in his mother's parlor.

They were both still for a moment before Draco shoved Potter off and began checking the windows and doors, making sure the room was secure. His chest still had heat from Potter's body imprinted on it. Draco strode around the room, easily maneuvering between dainty pieces of furniture.

"What's going on?" Potter suddenly croaked. Draco looked over. The man was a mess. His hair was in complete disarray and he looked like he'd just been hit by a Bludger. "Where are we?"

"We're in my subconscious now, Potter," Draco said, continuing to fortify the walls with his mind. "I had to take you out of yours, because there was a threat."

"Subconscious?" Potter repeated, looking bewildered. "We're… this isn't real?"

"It's as real as any thought can be," Draco replied, satisfied with his walls. They were protected, for the time being. "Do you remember what happened, before I came to find you?"

"Merlin," Potter said, lowering himself to a settee. His huge frame looked ridiculous in such a little piece of furniture. The fact that it was white and covered in baby roses only made the image more absurd. Draco had to bite the corner of his lip to stop from smiling. Potter looked purposely away and toward one of the windows. "So we're in… thoughts? Like a Pensieve?"

"Yes and no," Draco replied, staring out the window. He could see the gardens, though it was raining. Just like the last time he'd been in his parents' house, for tea. That had been, what? Two months ago? "Yes, these are thoughts. We are generating them. You created Hogwarts, I've created my…. A room."

"Hogwarts," Potter repeated. "That's right. I went to Hogwarts because it was safe."

Draco snapped his head around and narrowed his eyes. "Safe from what?"

Potter, eyes unfocused, slid a hand through his hair which caused even more disarray. He looked like he'd been struck by lightning. "After that case with the little girl, I had a bitch of a headache. I went home, took some pain potion and dreamless sleep. When I realized I was dreaming I knew something was wrong. Then… I felt…"

He stopped. His face became even paler and he grimaced. Draco almost stepped forward to offer some sort of comfort but refrained.

"Potter, you need to tell me what happened," Draco said calmly. "This is, after all, my area of expertise."

"Right." Potter looked mildly comforted by that. Draco squashed the pleased feeling in his chest. "Well it felt… first you need to know about… things… Merlin. I hate this. Talking about this."

"Talking about what?"

"Voldemort."

Draco didn't flinch but it was close. This is not where he'd expected the conversation to go. His own memories of Voldemort were enough to make him wish he'd envisioned a bottle of brandy into the room.

"What about him?" he said instead.

"There was a connection between us," Potter said, looking at the floor. Draco had the distinct impression that Potter was refusing to look at him. "When he tried to kill me as a baby, and the spell backfired, a part of him was put into me apparently." Draco hid his revulsion. Personal feelings were not important right now, even though his stomach rolled slightly. "That's why I could talk to snakes and such. But during my fifth year, he used that connection to make me do something stupid. I endangered a lot of people for nothing. But he knew about the connection, could feel me through it, just as I could feel him. Sometimes he'd be furious, and sometimes insanely happy. So in my dream, the other night when I shouldn't have been dreaming, it felt a lot like that. That weird… connection that I had with Voldemort. When I realized that somehow the dream, that presence, felt so hostile that I tried to Occlude. After that, I'm not sure."

Draco digested the information before he spoke. "So… you created, unconsciously, an entire realm of Hogwarts."

"Ah, yeah," Potter said with a shrug.

A laugh escaped before Draco could help it. Potter looked up, confused. "Once again, Potter, you do insane bits of magic without even knowing it. What is it with you?"

Potter frowned, looking torn between bafflement and anger. "What do you mean?"

"Some of the hardest magic to perform, and you do it without breaking a sweat. Completely on accident. And yet a simple cleaning charm on our cubicle is beyond your grasp."

"Hey," Potter snapped, getting to his feet. "I can do cleaning charms, thank you very much. But every time I do, I don't know where everything puts itself away. And it looks more… I dunno, elegant, I guess, when _you_ do it."

Draco growled slightly and began to pace again. "It doesn't matter," he said finally. But he would definitely have a conversation with Potter, once they'd awakened, about divvying up the chores. "You, inexplicably, created Hogwarts. Because to you, it was your safest memory. Nothing could touch you there. Unless you and your insane friends went to find it."

"Hey-"

"And then," Draco continued, ignoring Potter's furious scowling. "You made yourself young. No doubt a time for you when you didn't know what your future held. And you completely blocked everyone, even Granger. But you let me in. Why?"

Potter's scowl vanished and once again he appeared to look everywhere – except Draco. "I don't know."

"Liar," Draco replied evenly. "Why did you let me in?"

Before Potter could say anything, the room shook as though it had been hit with something. Draco, having focused more on their conversation in the previous minutes, had slipped in his reinforcement of the walls against attacks. He could feel something, a vile presence, battering against his mind.

"Potter!" he yelled. Potter had his wand out and was looking around the room in perplexity. "Potter, take us somewhere else! Somewhere else safe, but not Hogwarts!"

Draco flinched as a particularly sharp jab into one of the walls resounded in his mind.

"I don't understand!" Potter cried.

Some of the furniture started to tumbled sideways as Draco's focus began to fracture. Vases exploded as they fell to the floor.

"Potter, I can't explain it now, just Occlude!"

He was trying. Draco could see it in his eyes. But he didn't understand, couldn't grasp consciously what his mind did on its own the first time. One of the pretty pale yellow walls of his mother's sitting room began to crack. Huge rips appeared through the plaster. Draco tried to see them repairing themselves, to see the lines go smooth, but he couldn't concentrate. He was too worried about Potter, Potter's mind. Could it handle this?

"Draco!" Potter screamed. The wall exploded.

There was no more time. Giving up on salvaging this room and making it safe, knowing that Potter couldn't create something else, he turned away from the explosion, grabbed Potter's arm, and pulled them away. He blew apart the rest of the room on his own, knowing that they could be grabbed, their minds invaded by the attacker at any moment. He focused, pulled Potter closer and constructed walls around them. He could feel that presence, that putrid manifestation around them but shut it out, purposely pushing it away and creating another room, another place. He could also, surprisingly, feel Potter pushing it away. Their joint offensive move thrust away their attacker while Draco completed their new momentary safe haven.

A small café in the heart of London.

There was nonsensical chatter around them from the other patrons of the café. People walked by the window next to the table where they were seating. Potter looked shell-shocked.

"Where are we now?" he asked shakily.

"A café, now shut up and listen," Draco said lowly, part of his brain trained on the protection of the dream and the other on instructions. "To create a dream, you must visualize. Focus. Think of where you want to go. In normal dreams you are always in control. Nightmares happen when you lose focus, when you let the dream take you wherever your mind wanders. You _must_ remember, Potter, that _you_ are in control."

"I can create anything?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Even something Dr. Seuss would appreciate?" he said, his mouth quirked.

Draco frowned. "Dr. what?"

Potter shook his head. "Never mind."

"For now," Draco continued, "just think of something you're comfortable with."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Potter!" Draco snapped. "I can't hold your hand through this! I'm tired and my mind hurts from having to save our collective arses, so just think of something and try!"

"Fine!" Potter spat. He gave Draco one last glare before closing his eyes.

Draco, still mentally protecting them from any sort of attack even though he felt nothing so far, watched the play of emotions on Potter's face. Potter was terrible at hiding his feelings, his thoughts. For instance now there was total focus with a hint of petulance. Of course, nothing was happening. Draco reached across the table with his left hand and held onto Potter's wrist. Green eyes snapped open in surprise.

"It might help you take both of us if we're touching," Draco said nonchalantly. Potter blinked, nodded, and shut his eyes again.

His skin was warm. Almost feverish. Draco had never willingly _touched_ Potter before. He'd grabbed him to maneuver him about, or had smacked his head a few times. But this was… oddly intimate. Draco shifted in his chair.

"Could you keep still?" Potter said, not opening his eyes. "I'm trying to focus."

_Nothing stopping you_, Draco thought sullenly. He almost shifted again, just to be annoying, when he felt it. There was a … tug on the projection he'd created. A tug, then prod. He was positive it wasn't Potter. Then it was gone. He was still debating whether he should say something when he felt a flash of fire in the Dark Mark that still had a place on his left forearm.

He gasped in pain, wrenching his hand back.

"What?" Potter demanded, reaching for his wand once more. "What happened?"

Draco's jaw was slack with shock. How could it be? How… Voldemort was dead! Draco couldn't be called, not now!

"Draco, everything's going fuzzy!" Potter cried. "What's happening!"

"I have to go," Draco said vaguely. He sensed he needed to go to a clearing, a field… He'd leave Potter, of course…

"Go?" Potter asked. "Go where?"

"He's calling," Draco murmured. His mind was in a complete fog. Dimly he registered that the café had melted away. "The Mark… it's burning."

"Draco, no!" Potter yelled. "Draco, focus! Focus on me, on anything! It's not real!"

"Whatever, Potter," he said vaguely. He gathered himself, preparing to Apparate, when Potter launched himself over and grabbed his arm, the one that was burning more insistently the longer he put off meeting his master.

His café shattered. The tables, the windows, the people. All of it. Draco watched in total detachment, his mind suddenly calm, almost foggy. He had no thoughts, no worries. He felt Potter's grasp on his consciousness and felt totally safe. The shards of his vision melted away.

And then he was in a restaurant.

The burning was gone, the fog lifted. He looked around in dismay. Potter had taken them back to his mind, but the image was flawed. Everything was fuzzy, indistinct.

"What did you do, Potter?" he asked.

"I had to act fast," Potter replied. "Whatever it is, it attacked you this time. I felt nothing but suddenly the café was gone and you… you were going to leave."

"That's all fine and good Potter, but this is not right," Draco replied. Potter looked offended. "It's too similar to the café, and it's not clear. You're not focusing hard enough. It's not strong enough to protect us."

Potter snarled, actually snarled, and began to pace. "This isn't my thing, Draco! I'm trying as bloody hard as I can!"

"Well try harder!" Draco said sharply. "This isn't a game. This is real. Our minds, our lives, are at stake. Now think of something, something non-magical because this is obviously a magical attack."

"Non-magical? Why?"

"I think it would have a harder time understanding, and therefore finding, a non-magical environment. It knows you Potter, that's why it keeps finding us."

"What about you? And your café?"

Draco shook his head, unsure. "I don't know. Perhaps it knows me, too, and that's terrifying."

"It must," Potter replied, coming closer and gesturing toward Draco's left arm. "It knew about the Mark, and not many know that about you."

"I feel… you're the main focus," Draco said. "It's after you, but our minds are connected now. We won't leave each other, we're bound in a way. Perhaps it knows me, now, through you."

Potter looked blank for a moment and then shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Draco wanted to laugh but knew his partner well enough not to laugh at him. At least while in his presence. He needed to guide Potter further, to help him. Even though his brain felt as if it was being pried apart with an ice pick, Draco took a deep breath and said. "Well, we need to get back on track. What do you usually dream about?"

Potter looked lost for a moment, no doubt jarred by the sudden change of topic, but finally said, "Um, usually they're memories. Especially since the war ended. Sometimes, before, I'd have random dreams about nothing, but now it's usually… memories."

"Really? I almost always create my own dreams," Draco said.

"Well I don't have that kind of control," Potter said sharply. "I've never thought of dreams as something to manipulate, just something to endure."

Feeling oddly chastened for some reason, Draco remained silent while Potter flopped into one of the fuzzy, incomplete booths. There were no people around them. Potter hadn't figured them into his mental image.

"I can't control what's in my _mind_," Potter continued. "It's just _there._"

The restaurant blurred further as Potter's control slipped. Draco saw an odd image suddenly taking form – a Christmas tree. At first it was just a colored blob, but then it began to sharpen.

"Potter," Draco said softly. "What are you doing?"

"It's almost Christmas, you know," Potter said vaguely. "I've been dreaming a lot about Christmas."

He was losing all focus now, pulling them into a memory. Draco panicked.

"Potter, you need to focus," he said quickly. "Using a memory is fine, but remember you lost all sense of self when you used the Hogwarts memory! You need to focus and-"

"The lights are so beautiful."

The image, memory, was so sharp that it didn't form around them so much as they snapped into it. They were in some sort of house, scrupulously clean, with Christmas decorations spaced about. In the center of the room was a little boy, no more than five. With a jolt, Draco realized it was Potter. He was scrawny and wearing clothes much too large for his slight frame. Draco watched as he took off his glasses and set them in the seat of a chair.

"Potter," he whispered, almost afraid to raise his voice.

The little boy glanced at him and then smiled. Draco found himself charmed by that little face. A tooth was missing. Completely against his will, he smiled back.

"The lights are purdier without my glasses on," he said in a low voice, as if he were imparting a great secret. His grin widened and he went to the tree, where he hunched down and then wriggled underneath. Draco saw the feet turn over and then go still and he knew Potter was lying on his back and looking up at the lights through the tree. Draco himself had done this numerous times.

He approached the tree and knelt, looking under the lowest branches. Potter looked completely content, lying there and gazing at the lights. Draco was almost tempted to join him, just for a few moments, when he heard something behind him. Launching himself to his feet and withdrawing his wand, he went still when he saw a large, beefy man enter the room. He was wearing a hideous Christmas sweater and had a mustache like a walrus. What seemed odd was that the man didn't appear to see him.

He crossed the room, ignoring the tree, and began to lower himself into a chair. The same chair where Potter had put his glasses. There was a crunch, a moment of utter silence, and then –

"_POTTER!_" the man thundered.

Draco heard a yelp come from the tree and then Potter scrambled out, catching a branch to the side of his face. Draco saw a drop of blood well up as the boy gained his feet. The man was holding what was left of Potter's glasses in his hand.

"You left them there on purpose, didn't you boy?" the man snarled.

"N-no, Uncle Vernon," Potter said in his high voice.

"Yes you did, you little vermin," Potter's uncle spat. "You thought it would be funny, eh? A great laugh."

"No! I didn't!" the boy cried.

The slap was so fast it didn't register at first. Draco heard the crack of skin contacting skin, and saw Potter's head snap back. He gasped.

"Don't lie to me!" the man yelled.

"I'm not lying!" Potter sobbed, backing away and cradling his face. But the man, Potter's own uncle, followed. There was another slap, and then another.

Shocked, appalled, completely bewildered, Draco called out. "Potter! Focus!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon!" Potter moaned. Draco tried to grab the man but his hands went right through him and contacted Potter instead.

"Potter, snap out of it!" he said furiously. "You're a man, a twenty-five year old man, not a toddler! Come on, I need you to focus!"

Potter seemed immovable as the beating continued. Draco had never felt more useless in his life. How long would this go on? What could he do? He'd never encountered anything like this. He sank to his knees and helplessly watched as a grown man beat on a little boy. A blonde woman appeared in the doorway, no doubt Potter's aunt, but she did nothing. She simply stood there, expressionless.

"Harry," Draco said softly, weakly.

"Harry," the little boy said. Suddenly he wasn't a little boy any longer. He was himself, a man. He took one last shot to the face from his Uncle before shoving him aside. Draco looked at him, relieved, but Potter was obviously mortified.

"Oh my God," he gasped. His eyes, no longer hidden behind his glasses, widened. "Oh no… you didn't… you saw…?"

Draco nodded. The dream seemed to have paused, the man caught mid-fall to the floor. Potter covered his face with his hands and turned away. He was shaking.

"I want to go somewhere else," he said brokenly. "I…. I'm trying but it's not working!"

The image around them pulsed, but nothing happened. They weren't taken away. The image of Potter's Uncle seemed to be falling in slow motion. Draco watched as the mangled glasses slowly, so slowly, fell out of his hand. Draco grabbed them before they fell further. The room pulsed again, weaker than before. Potter moaned and hunched his shoulders, almost as if he were trying to hide.

Draco, taking pity but not wanting to appear that way, got to his feet and gently touched Potter's arms from behind. With one last venomous look at the man, he took them away into his own mind once more. Gently his pushed Harry's visions away, almost making his grasp of Potter's consciousness comforting. The living room melted away and Draco constructed walls filled with books.

He took them to a shop he'd come across on one of his trips to Paris. A Muggle bookstore.

It was huge, with many floors of books. On his trip he'd been enchanted with the store and how cozy, yet enormous, it was. He took them to the history section. It was secluded, on the third floor in a corner. Potter immediately walked a couple of feet away and went still, facing away from Draco, who wasn't sure just what to do.

He wanted to hold him. Totally irrational and completely unrealistic. Straight men did not allow themselves to be held by other men. Especially when that other man was just a coworker, barely even a friend. So Draco remained in place and gazed at Potter's back.

Did those Muggles not know, not understand just who Harry Potter was? That had to be it. Potter's own Uncle called him 'Potter'. Just like Draco did.

Draco had known who Harry Potter was his whole life. He was so excited that they were going to be in school together, the same year. Wouldn't it be an amazing thing if they were friends? Friends with a celebrity… He remembered his father, telling him the story, the whole story of how Harry Potter survived…

The books in front of his face looked like the ones in his library at home…

"Draco," Harry said suddenly. "What's happening?"

"What do you mean, Ha-Potter?"

"It's going fuzzy," Harry replied, looking around. "Are you changing it again, or what?"

"No," Draco replied, focusing. The fuzziness sharpened once more. Harry came closer and took his glasses out of Draco's hand. He fixed them with a wave of his wand and perched them once more on his nose. His eyes were slightly calculating, which made Draco very unnerved.

"What was that?" Harry asked curiously. "It was like… I dunno. Some sort of library or something."

"You saw that?" Draco asked in horror.

"Yeah," Harry said, intrigued. "I thought I even saw your dad. I wasn't sure what was happening."

Draco sighed. "Just being around you, in your undisciplined mind, has had a negative effect on me."

"You sound like Snape," Harry said with a grimace.

"Good, maybe that'll make you focus more," Draco snapped. Harry ignored the jab.

"What was it, anyway? What were you thinking about?"

"None of your damned business."

"Are you embarrassed?" Harry asked incredulously. "Seriously? It can't be that bad. You just saw… what you saw. Couldn't have been that bad."

"No, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on! You saw mine!"

"And that is not my fault," Draco said haughtily. "It's _yours._"

"What could it hurt? Come on, Draco!"

"No. We need to find a way to wake up. That is what we need to be… doing…"

But to his horror, for some reason the bookshop was melting. He was wavering, his sense of fairness unconsciously giving in to Harry's pleading. He always was weak where Harry – _Potter_ – was concerned. If Potter ever found out, his life would be over. Potter looked about avidly as the scene emerged.

The library was dark, made of dark wood and jewel-toned carpet and window curtains. It was Christmas, his last Christmas before going to Hogwarts. Snow was falling peacefully outside the window.

He'd gotten some amazing presents! He loved his new broom most of all. He was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, reverently touching the handle. His small hands barely wrapped around it – it was made for adults but his father knew he could handle it. He was a great flier. Maybe he'd even make the house team…

"When the snow lets up, I'll take you out," his father said with a small smile from the chair next to the Christmas tree. He had a glass of some adult drink in his hand. He'd let Draco sip it once, because he'd pestered so much, but Draco hadn't liked it at all.

"You will not," his mother replied, walking in with one of the house-elves. It was holding a tea service. "You will wait until Spring, just like we discussed," she continued, glaring at Father.

"Of course, dear," Father said mildly, but when Mother turned away, he gave Draco a wink. Stifling laughter, Draco continued to look at his broom. It was fantastic.

"Soon enough it'll be time for school supplies," Mother said suddenly.

"He has months left, darling," Father replied lazily.

"He's growing so fast," she said, ignoring her husband. Her eyes were teary when she looked down at Draco. "He'll be a big boy soon, off to school."

"Mu-um," Draco whined. He hated it when she spoke to him like a child.

"Yes off to school," Father said. "You know you'll be there with Harry Potter."

Draco nodded. He was so looking forward to seeing Harry Potter, the boy who'd killed a full-grown wizard even when he was just an infant.

"How did he do it, Father?" Draco asked, looking up.

"Do what?"

"You know, kill someone when he was just a baby?"

The room went silent and suddenly Draco was worried that he'd said something wrong. His parents shared a look, one Draco didn't understand. Her eyes were oddly pleading, like she didn't want Father to say anything.

"Come here Draco," Father said suddenly. Putting his broom gently aside, Draco stood and went to his father, who pulled him into his lap. Draco felt that he was getting too old for such baby-like cuddling, but… he'd never tell anyone this _ever_… he liked being snuggled by his parents. He felt loved, every day, but snuggling was special. He curled up against Father and felt Mother join them at the chair.

"No one knows how he did it," Father said. Draco felt his chest rumble under his ear as he spoke. "He just did."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Draco asked. "That he killed the bad wizard?"

More silence. He knew he was treading dangerous ground, but he wanted to know.

"As far as the world is concerned," his mother said, "it's a good thing."

Draco didn't completely understand that statement but nodded as though he did. He felt his mother's lips on his head and smiled. He looked up just in time to see his parents kiss softly and made a gagging noise, even though he secretly loved when his parents got mushy. He saw a lot of anger between the parents of some of his friends, or they ignored each other. Like Pansy's parents. Blaise's mum killed her husbands. But Draco's parents, they loved each other.

Draco hopped to his feet, and grabbed his broom. He turned back to ask his father something but he couldn't help but notice the worried lines around both his and Mother's mouths.

And then he noticed Harry.

Potter. Harry. Shite.

Suddenly himself, no longer in the body of a ten year-old, Draco adjusted his robes and gave Harry a cold look. "Satisfied?"

Harry shrugged and looked back at the couple by the fire. The scene was paused now that Draco had full control once again.

"That's not what I expected," Harry finally said.

Embarrassed for some reason, but curious as to Harry's thoughts, he asked, "How so?"

"I thought it was going to be something… embarrassing or something, and then your parents…."

"What about them?" Draco asked darkly.

"They're not what I…. hm. I didn't think they acted like that."

"What? What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing," Harry said with a shrug. "That's the thing. Every time I see them they're so… I dunno. Haughty, I guess. And your father's only ever been a bastard to me."

"My father is not a nice man," Draco said carefully. "He's conniving, self-centered, and power-hungry. At least he was, no doubt, as you remember him. But even with all that, he loves his family. He'd do anything for them. I think that's the point."

Harry gave him a look, an oddly perceptive one that made Draco uncomfortable. "Thank you for showing me," he said finally.

"Trust me, that was not my intent," Draco said. "And if you tell anyone about that, ever, I will kill you."

Harry snorted and looked back at Draco's parents. "They're kinda… cute."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Cute?"

"Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "All kissy and cuddly. So normal. It's weird. And you," he said, pointing at Draco's chest. "You were so… yeah, cute." Draco made a scoffing noise while inside his heart tripped over in his chest. But then Harry continued. "What happened? Where did Cute Draco go, and how did this Jerky Draco emerge? I want Cute Draco back."

"Shut up. Now."

Harry laughed loudly and Draco decided he'd had enough, though he was secretly amused as well.

_Why don't we go to Hogsmeade?_

Hogsmeade. We shouldn't go there. Draco frowned, his thoughts suddenly… uncomfortable. As if he couldn't make his own decisions.

_Go to Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade is safe. Don't you feel it? That pressure on you mind?_

And Draco did feel it then. They had to leave. Their attacker had found them! But Hogsmeade… that couldn't be right. They couldn't go there.

_Potter triumphed there… there is no safer place… go to Hogsmeade…._

Of course Hogsmeade was safe. Without another thought, indeed he couldn't seem to think at all, he grabbed Potter and broke his own image. He had to get them to Hogsmeade. The fields were emerald green surrounding the village… yes…

"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry said, sounding confused.

Draco knew what happened in Hogsmeade, even if he hadn't been there at the time. He heard about it later, while visiting Snape. It had been he, after all, who had saved the Malfoy family. Draco's father had called in a favor, a debt that Snape had to pay. So he'd hidden them. Draco still didn't know how he did it. But he knew that the final battle, the place where Voldemort finally died, was in the fields outside of Hogsmeade.

So why the bloody hell did he go there?

He realized it was a mistake right away. Harry went pale, his eyes frantic.

"I know this place," Harry croaked. Shadowy forms began to take place in the high grasses of the fields. Draco could see the little village far off. With a jolt, he realized that his mind and Harry's had melded together for this vision. Draco had taken them there, inexplicably, but it was Harry who filling it in from his memory of the place.

Filling it with people. Screams, explosions.

"No…" Harry gasped.

The figures became more distinct. People in robes and masks, others dressed like it was any other day. So many people, all fighting. There was blood and flashes of light as spells flew in every direction.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I don't know how-"

"Must leave," Harry yelled. He sounded like he was talking to himself, even though he was yelling. "Must leave, someplace safe, not embarrassing, please not embarrassing…"

Draco's stomach dropped when he saw the all too familiar vision of Voldemort himself. The snake-like face split into a triumphant grin as he raised his wand at Harry. The presence that had been following them, attacking them, was there. It was in the vision, _with_ them, not on the outside trying to break in. Draco panicked but before he could take them somewhere else, Harry did it for him. He grabbed Draco's hand, squeezed, and the scene dropped away, almost as if they'd been shot into the air.

Everything was black for a moment. Draco didn't fight, didn't try to help. He was too angry with himself. What had he been thinking? He hadn't. He hadn't even made a conscious decision to go to that place. He never would have on his own. He knew what it was, what had happened to Harry there. He was still furious with himself when they landed in a new place.

He registered that he was no longer holding Harry's hand. Harry was now a few feet away, standing before a girl. He looked no more than fifteen. So they'd delved into another of Potter's memories. The room was huge, but empty apart from just the two figures. And Draco himself. His eyebrow shot up when the girl stepped closer to Harry.

Draco suddenly recognized her. The Ravenclaw Chaser, Diggory's girlfriend. They were talking lowly, much too low for Draco to hear. The girl – Chang? – moved closer. Harry looked stunned, paralyzed. And then she was kissing him.

Draco pursed his lips. Apparently when Harry was thinking 'nothing embarrassing', he must have accidentally taken them to when he was kissing some girl. Draco would need to tell him that purposely 'not thinking' about something immediately brought it to the forefront of your mind. It was like telling yourself not to think about big pink elephants. Obviously big pink elephants would show up in your head.

Draco's thoughts came to a halt when suddenly Chang burst into tears. Draco couldn't help it, he let out a peal of laughter. Harry kissing someone, probably his _first_ kiss, and she ends up in tears! Had they still been enemies, he would never have let Harry live this down! Harry, startled by Chang's crying, suddenly looked up and scowled. He reverted to himself, his actual age, and put his hands on his hips.

"It's not funny!" he snapped.

"Oh, yes it is!" Draco giggled. "Your first kiss?"

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Chang sobbed louder.

"Your first kiss, and she cries! Were you that terrible?" Draco doubled over in laughter.

"Oh, and was your first kiss so perfect, then?" Harry demanded.

"Well," Draco said, gasping a bit, still amused by Chang's tearful face. "He didn't end up crying, that's for sure!"

Harry went still, his eyes suddenly shrewd. "He?" he asked quietly. And Draco knew he'd made a mistake. Before he could even attempt to salvage the situation, Harry pounced on the subject. "Don't think about your first kiss, Draco. Don't think about it."

His first kiss… the Slytherin common room… third year… No! Something else, anything else!

"Don't do it, Draco. Don't think about the boy you kissed!"

Blaise…

He felt Potter pushing away the projection. Draco was too disoriented, too vulnerable after giving Potter the reigns to take them out of Hogsmeade. It was all too easy for Potter to manipulate Draco into thinking about his first kiss, all too easy for him to push them into Draco's mind, joined as they were. All too easy for Draco to give in. Before he knew what was really happening, the stone walls appeared.

The common room was empty. It was late, much too late to be up on a school night, but Draco was upset.

"It can't be all that bad, Draco," Blaise said softly.

"You don't understand!" Draco replied, twisting his tie between his fingers.

"That's right, I don't, because you won't tell me," Blaise said, his voice gentle.

This was why he always came to Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid, Pansy would shoot her mouth off. But Blaise, in his quiet, always watching and waiting sort of way, was dependable. And he'd listen, never urge you to speak before you were ready. Just… be there. It was comforting.

"My family would disown me," Draco said suddenly. "If they knew, I mean, if I told them what I think… might be happening…"

Blaise moved closer to him on their shared couch and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He said not a word.

"It started a few months ago," Draco said, his voice hushed. "Just dreams and such. And then I'd catch myself thinking… Oh, Merlin."

"It's alright," Blaise said. "I think I know what you're trying to say."

"How do I make it go away?"

"You don't," Blaise replied, a hint of sharpness in his voice. "You know that."

"But I can't even be sure! I mean, I've never even been kissed…"

"Not Pansy?" Blaise asked in surprise.

"No," Draco replied miserably. "I just can't bring myself to do it. Merlin knows she's willing."

"Well that tells you something right there."

"But… maybe it's just her. Maybe another girl…?"

"Why are you asking me? Haven't you tried another girl?"

Draco was silent. Yes, he'd tried to envision kissing some other girl but they always turned into…

"It doesn't work," Draco mumbled.

"I think you have your answer, Draco," Blaise said softly. "It's not the end of the world, you know."

"You've met my parents!" Draco said. "You know being a pureblood is all about ensuring the line! How can I do that if I'm… I can't."

"Sure you can," Blaise replied. "And this could just be a phase. Perhaps you like both, you just have yet to meet a girl you fancy."

Draco just shook his head. There was no girl. "I don't know, Blaise. I just… don't know. I don't understand anything anymore."

"Get yourself kissed," Blaise said knowingly. "Then go from there. It's no big deal."

"Oh yeah, sure," Draco said sarcastically. "And I should just go up to someone, plant one on them, and see what happens?"

Draco didn't know what happened next, but suddenly he was pressed into the sofa, on his back, and Blaise was on top of him. There was no time to panic. No time for anything but sensation. And there was sensation. Blaise's lips were soft and warm on his own. It felt… fantastic. It was so perfect, so right, that he moaned and pressed his lips even harder to Blaise's. Fingers touched his cheeks and neck. He wrapped his arms around Blaise's slender frame and held him close. He never wanted it to end.

That warm mouth meandered down to his neck and he purred. There was no other word for it. It felt so good that he was completely lost. His eyes slid open slightly and then caught on a figure standing there.

Harry.

Draco snapped back to the present and shoved the thirteen year old form of Blaise away. The scene paused. Again, _again_, he'd lost himself in front of Harry.

"Damn it," Draco muttered. "You prat."

"It was only fair," Harry replied, looking a little gobsmacked.

"I can't help that you keep showing me things you don't want me to see!"

"And I can't help that you have no control over your memories anymore," Harry replied, looking a little smug.

"You bloody well did that on purpose and you know it!"

"Yep," he said, unrepentant. "You were laughing at me."

"It was _funny_, Harry," Draco said, getting to his feet and trying to fix his hair. "You _kissed_ her, and she started _crying_. Not many have that talent."

"She was crying because she felt bad about her feelings towards me! Cedric had only died a few months previously."

Squashing his sudden guilt, Draco shrugged. "Whatever, Potter. We need to get out of here. We need a plan, a way to wake up, and I don't want to think about it here."

"Too distracted by your young lover?"

"Fuck you very much, Potter. Let's move on before whatever is after us finds us. I didn't exactly have time to create fortifications for this place."

Seething, Harry just nodded. "I know somewhere we can go, someplace safe. I can't believe I haven't thought of it before now."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Harry grabbed him, a little bit more roughly than usual, and pushed aside Draco's construction and replaced it with a dank, dirty kitchen with ragged furniture. It was dark without even a fire in the huge fireplace. A scrawny Christmas tree was huddled in a corner with only a few ornaments and no lights on it.

"Where are we?" Draco asked, having trouble hiding his disgust.

"A place I own," Harry replied. "Used to be the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius Black's house."

"Huh," Draco replied. For some reason the place made him uneasy. He felt as though he was being watched, like the walls had eyes and ears. Pushing the thought aside, he eyed Harry. "I'm sorry."

Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "For what, the kiss thing?"

Draco huffed. "No. For the other thing. The Hogsmeade thing."

"Oh. Well. Why did you go there?"

Draco opened his mouth but paused for a moment. Frowning, he said, "You know, I didn't. Not consciously. I would never have gone there. I know what it is for you."

"Then how did we get there?"

"It was like… a push. No, more like a suggestion, in my head. I think I even argued with myself, knowing it was a bad idea. And then I just… went."

Harry went pale. "What if it wasn't you? What if it was what we've been running from?"

"How could it have gotten a hold on me?" Draco asked, feeling suddenly cold inside.

"How can it do whatever it's doing now? We don't know, Draco. That's why this is terrifying. We have no idea what it is or what it wants. And we can't wake up. Now we know it can even plant suggestions in us, make us do things. It was going to make you leave me, back in that café."

"So far it's only tried to make me do things, not you."

"I feel it, though," Harry said. "I feel it pressing on my mind. Sometimes I'm thinking things, and it's not me. And then I realize it and… I dunno. I guess I Occlude and it's gone."

Harry could push it away, but Draco, the mental health side of the partnership, couldn't. Suddenly furious with himself, but not knowing why, Draco began to pace. He refused to look at Harry. He felt like he was letting his partner down. This was his _thing,_ it was what he did for a _living,_ and he couldn't seem to be able to save them.

He almost tripped over an uneven stone. He hated where Harry had taken them. The longer they stayed, the more uncomfortable Draco felt.

"Well," Harry said suddenly, looking at the floor. "I didn't realize we had something in common, though."

"And what's that?" Draco replied, eyeing the walls suspiciously. There was just something not _right_ about this place. It was perfectly vivid, no doubt because Harry knew the place well. Perhaps it wasn't as safe as Harry thought it was, if it was so accessible in his mind…

"Being gay," Harry said quietly.

Draco went still, heart hammering suddenly. Forgetting his perusal of the walls, he turned to Harry. "I never said I was gay."

"What?" Harry gasped. "But…. What we just saw…you said-"

"That I might be gay," Draco interrupted. "Not that I was."

"But that kiss, you obviously enjoyed it!"

Draco gritted his teeth. He didn't want to talk about this. "Drop it, Potter."

"No! Don't you dare lie to me!"

"Why the bloody hell not?" Draco yelled. "I owe you nothing! We work together, Potter, that is the extent of this relationship! I don't need to inform you of my personal life!"

Harry suddenly looked a little lost. "I just thought… If you struggled with it like I did, perhaps…"

"What? Perhaps what Potter?"

"I just… I have no one to talk to about it. No family or anything. I told Hermione, but she's a girl and doesn't understand it. Same with Ginny."

"So you and Weasley… aren't…?"

Harry laughed humorlessly and sat on a bench. "No. She is my guard dog and I'm hers. She's a big deal in the Quidditch world. Lots of men would just love to shag her. But if she's dating the Great Harry Potter, then they back off. And same for me. I get a lot of women who think they're in love with the Savior. But if I have Ginny around, then I don't get the mail so much. And I'm just not ready for everyone to know… I mean, can you imagine what the _Prophet_ would have to say? _Harry Potter is gay. The man who saved the world likes cock._ It would be a nightmare… And I don't even have anyone to talk to about it."

Draco sighed. So true, yet he had Blaise. Blaise kept him sane. Who looked after Harry, other than Granger or Weasley? Two women who had actual families? Who wouldn't judge Harry? Draco wasn't sure he could be that man. He was always judging Harry. It was practically instinct after school.

Draco sighed and sat on the same bench, though he made sure there was plenty of room between them. Finding out the man he'd been in love with for years was gay didn't mean he could suddenly just launch himself at him. Taking his sigh as one of defeat, Harry started talking. It was like he didn't have a brain filter and everything just poured out.

"I realized it after the war was over," he said quickly. "Before then, I didn't have much time to think about it. One night, frustrated as hell, I went out into Muggle London, a gay club I heard about somewhere. I let some bloke take me home."

Harry didn't realize it, but his thoughts were starting to project. The amazing thing was that the kitchen didn't change. He was holding onto their protective walls, but still projecting his thoughts. Draco could see the vision of a man over Harry's shoulder, like something out of a looking glass. He looked so out of place that Draco blinked. He had brown hair and a smooth, muscular body. Draco could tell, seeing as how the man was naked.

"I was terrified, but he… took good care of me."

There was Harry, another Harry, in the image. Draco looked between that one and the one sitting before him. He shut his eyes hard, then opened them in time to see the image Harry remove his shirt. Should he say something? But Harry had been embarrassed so many times in their journey so far… Maybe he should keep his mouth shut and save Harry the humiliation of knowing that he was projecting his first sexual encounter with a man. Of course that was utter crap and Draco knew it. He just wanted to watch. He should look away. It was a gross invasion of privacy, especially since Harry didn't seem to know what was going on, but before he could say a word, the two men kissed. It was beautiful. And infuriating.

"I've heard lots of stories about first times," Harry continued. "All horror stories but this bloke made it alright. Really fantastic actually."

The image shifted from benign kissing to full on fucking in the blink of an eye. Draco couldn't quite contain the noise that escaped his mouth, but Harry didn't notice. Draco watched the two figures writhe together, their lips pressed together hard. Watched Harry's head arch back into the pillow behind his head and cry out silently.

Then it was gone. Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"After that, I knew," Harry continued. "I kept going to Muggle London just for anonymity. I found these men and had a great time."

Draco could tell. He crossed his legs, trying to look nonchalant as image after image appeared. He was going to have to say something, to stop Harry…. in a minute. He watched, eyes glued, as the image of Harry had all kinds of sex with all kinds of men. Sweaty sex against a wall with a beautiful black man, hidden public sex in some shrubbery in a park, sex on the stairs, in a shower, a car. Hardly ever a bed. It was becoming more uncomfortable for Draco to appear calm and collected.

"So you know you're gay and have great sex," Draco interrupted. Thankfully the erotic images vanished. "Good for you. Now we need to wake up." Looking hurt, Harry silently nodded. Feeling contrite, Draco continued, "We can talk about it later, Potter. When we're not fighting for our lives. We need to focus on the present."

He'd be more than happy to have that conversation later. When he wouldn't be able to watch Harry's trysts as though watching a Muggle television screen. He prayed to whoever was listening that Harry wouldn't see that he was hard. He couldn't get the image of Harry fucking some tan bloke on a rug in front of a fireplace out of his head. He'd been so focused, so beautiful…

"Draco, are you listening to me?" Harry demanded.

Draco jumped and looked into Harry's eyes. "No."

Harry huffed. "You're the one who said we need to focus! Now help me figure out how to bloody wake up."

Considering for a moment, Draco then reached out and punched Harry in the shoulder.

"OW! What the fuck?" Harry gasped.

"Surprise obviously won't do," Draco murmured. "We've been attacked numerous times and the shock of that hasn't woken us."

"Ya think?" Harry said sarcastically.

Draco then reached forward again, much more quickly, and pushed Harry backward so that he fell off the bench and onto the floor.

"SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK?" Harry bellowed.

Having entirely too much fun, Draco pursed his lips. "Falling has no impact either. You know those falling dreams, where you wake up before you hit the floor? Doesn't work in this case."

"Yes," Harry growled, getting to his feet. "I can tell."

"This is all too odd," Draco said softly. "I have no idea how to wake us up."

"Perhaps whatever is following us wants us to remain asleep," Harry said helpfully, carefully seating himself out of Draco's reach. "Maybe they have that kind of control."

"There's a thought," Draco replied. "Not only can they follow our minds, but they can keep us asleep. At least we can keep them out."

"Mostly," Harry said. "Until they make the walls explode. Or mysteriously use subliminal messaging."

"We need to kill the threat, then," Draco said calmly. "Destroy it, and we'll be able to waken."

"But we don't even know what it is," Harry said irritably. "Only that it feels like Voldemort, and fat lot of help that is."

"Brainstorming session?"

Draco and Harry looked up at the same time to the intruder. Harry gasped and lurched to his feet. Draco, thinking it was some kind of threat, followed and pulled out his wand. But Harry then launched himself at the newcomer and wrapped him in a hug.

"I don't care if you're just a projection of my mind," Harry said into the man's shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you."

Draco frowned. Not a threat, then, but…. There was something he didn't quite like about the newcomer. He was so beautiful. Black hair and grey eyes, tall and a bit thin but it added to his sense of sensuality.

"Sirius," Harry murmured.

Ah, Draco thought, suddenly understanding. Sirius Black, the owner of the house. Harry's godfather. Draco vaguely recognized him but he looked much different than what Draco had seen of him in the newspaper.

The man looked over Harry's shoulder at Draco, his eyes assessing. It made Draco extremely uncomfortable. Harry pulled Black to the table, introducing Draco as his Auror partner.

"Lucius Malfoy's son?" Black whispered.

"Sirius, he's fine," Harry said impatiently. "You can trust him. I do."

Draco sat a little taller, filled with a kind of pride. Harry trusted him.

"Hm," Black said noncommittally.

"Draco," Harry said suddenly. "I think I feel a threat."

"We'll have to move," Draco said. "Again. We can't let it catch us."

He felt it too, as though a pressure was building. Something… not _against_ his mind but… there.

"Stay a while," Black said suddenly. "You're safe here, Harry. You know that."

"I can feel it too, Harry," Draco said quickly. "We need to leave."

"No," Black said harshly. "You can't take him from me!"

"Sirius, it's okay!" Harry said in alarm. "He's right, I have to leave. I wish you were real…"

"I am real," Black said soothingly. "Stay here. With me. Who could you trust more?"

"Harry," Draco said lowly. "You know this is a dream."

"Yeah, I do," Harry said with a frown. "Sirius, what are you playing at?"

"He's your creation, Harry," Draco said. "Remember, you're in control."

"But… I'm not," Harry said in confusion. "I'm not in control of him!"

Black suddenly grinned, an evil, vile grin and Draco knew. They'd been infiltrated. Harry's fortification wasn't enough. This was their attacker.

"Harry, come on!" Draco yelled as Black got to his feet and pulled out his wand. But Harry was too far away to grab.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, wand in hand.

"You know me," Black hissed. "You know me better than anyone."

"It's not possible," Harry said weakly. "No…"

Black suddenly lashed out and gripped the front of Harry's shirt in an iron fist. Harry cried out sharply, falling forward. Into Draco's reach.

"Look into my eyes!" Black snarled. "Look at me, Harry Potter!"

"No!" Draco yelled. "Look at me, Harry! _Me_!"

Green eyes looked up at him, full of panic. Draco brought a fist down into Black's elbow, who hissed in pain and released Harry's shirt. Thinking fast and focusing harder than he ever had in his life Draco pulled Harry into his arms.

"Break the image!" Draco commanded. Immediately the room began to fracture. The image of Black was thrust back into a crumbling wall as though he'd been kicked. The bits of room fell away. Draco imagined brick after brick appearing and building a wall between them and the fallen form of Black. The wall grew larger and larger, going as far as the eye could see.

"I don't know how long I can hold this," Draco said softly. "My mind is… so stretched."

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured.

They were still holding each other. As if both came to the same thought, they let go and stepped back.

"Don't apologize," Draco said gruffly. "What was that? It felt…"

"Familiar?" Harry said with a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah. It was Voldemort."

His thoughts already brittle from all the jumping around they'd been doing, Draco lost all focus with shock. "What did you say?"

"Yeah. It's him."

"No!" Draco gasped. "It cannot be! You killed him!"

The brick wall shuddered. Even as he felt the first cracks, Draco knew it was a lost cause. He was too tired. He couldn't hold the foundation. The wall came crumbling down. Harry jumped to his side and held up his wand as a figure came into view.

Draco wasn't sure if it was possible to actually vomit in a dreamscape, but he sure felt like wanted to. Voldemort calmly walked over the mound of brick and stood before them.

Was it a vision? Or was Harry correct?

"I don't understand," Draco whispered. "I just don't get it."

Harry suddenly collapsed, clutching his head.

"Harry!" Draco gasped, dropping down beside him

"Didn't get them all, did you Harry?" Voldemort said, laughter in his voice. "You missed one. Just one. But one is all I needed."

"Harry," Draco murmured, staring at his partner as he began to rock back and forth.

"It was all too easy to get back into your mind, Harry Potter," Voldemort continued. "So preoccupied, so distracted with young Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's head snapped up and he sent a malevolent glare at their enemy, only feet away. Voldemort laughed.

"How can you still be here?" Draco demanded.

"Ask Harry," Voldemort replied. "He was the one who was supposed to kill me. But he didn't know about the last one, did you Harry? So here I am."

"Last _what?_"

"Horcrux, of course. Ah, I'm not surprised he didn't divulge that information. You see, Draco, I divvied up my soul so that I could never die. Harry was supposed to find those bits of soul and kill them, so that I'd perish for good. But he failed. He forgot to look within himself. Funny how the self-centered never truly look at themselves."

Draco wanted to snarl. Harry was probably the least self-centered person Draco had ever met, but there was no point in saying so. He needed to keep Voldemort talking, an easy task because the man loved to hear himself speak. Draco needed more information.

"What do you mean?" he asked, careful to look intrigued but defiant. Voldemort smiled, which almost made Draco grimace.

"Because Harry didn't kill all the Horcruxes, I was what I was before. Body-less, but still alive. For the longest time I had no plan, but then… it came to me. I needed a body, one that wouldn't reject me. To get it, I needed Potter. So I possessed my way back to England."

What? What could he mean?

"Snakes?" Potter asked in a choked voice, looking up from the ground.

"Yes," Voldemort replied with a tilt of his head. "And some people. Now here I am."

"Come on, Harry, focus!" Draco said sharply, gazing at Harry's crumbled form. "Push him back!"

"There's nothing you can really do, Draco," Voldemort said calmly. "I have a grasp of his mind. Silly young Malfoy. You have no idea, do you? He could have kept me out, if you hadn't have arrived," Voldemort said silkily. Draco paused. "Yes, he's weak about you. Those walls were perfectly solid, completely impenetrable, until you showed up. It was quite easy to follow you in. You know why he let you in, don't you?"

Draco stared down at Harry. He didn't want to hear it, but he needed to.

"He's been mad about you for ages," Voldemort said. "Always had a weak spot where you were concerned. At first it was hatred, which is a kind of weakness. But then it shifted into something else. Here, let me show you."

The rubble from the wall vanished. It was like looking into large television.

"He watched you," Voldemort said softly. It was their cubicle. Harry was staring at him, though Draco didn't know it. When he turned away to pick up a file, Harry's eyes fell to Draco's ass. "He wanted you. He gave off the image of not caring about you one way or another, but all the while he wanted you desperately."

The image shifted to Harry in what could only be his own bed, his hand wrapped around his hard cock. He writhed, pumping his hips up into his fist. The image of Harry moaned, "_Draco_…"

"It's always you he fantasizes about," Voldemort continued, sounding as though he were having the time of his life. The image turned into another, and another. All of them Harry wanking with Draco's name on his lips. "Even when he was with other men, he was thinking it was you. Did you not notice that most of his encounters were with blonds?"

The image that Draco had liked so much from earlier, of Harry with the man on the rug in front of the fire, appeared once more. Draco realized that the man was, indeed, blond. The image lasted longer this time, torturing Harry, who was groaning in pain and mortification. But Draco couldn't look away. Harry's hips moved quickly, faster and faster until he went still and shuddered. "_Draco_…" he whispered.

"Even now he harbors a spark of hope," Voldemort said maliciously. "Knowing now that you're like him, maybe, just maybe, he has a chance."

"You sick fuck," Draco snapped. "You sick bastard!"

"Stop!" Harry yelled. "I've had enough!"

Eyes narrowed in pain, he got to his knees. Draco supported him, though Harry flinched at the contact.

"We need to wake up, Harry," Draco said quickly. "Now!"

"Oh, but you can't," Voldemort said in a sing-song voice. "I have his mind. You are free to wake any time, Draco Malfoy, but Harry cannot."

"He's right," Harry gasped.

There was no way that Draco was leaving him behind. They'd been able to hold him back this long. Now that they knew what the threat was, perhaps they could hold him off longer? Draco closed his eyes and began to focus once more, pulling all the energy he had into himself. Next to him, Harry was panting. He yanked Harry close and thought of a picture he once saw in a magazine. A place almost too beautiful to be real. With Harry there, they'd be found eventually, but it would be safe for a little while at least. Draco would make sure of it.

He could hear Voldemort approaching.

"I won't let you!" Harry yelled. There was a pulse, a huge force of power, and Voldemort was thrown back. This was Draco's chance!

He focused on the image, on the gorgeous blue ocean and huge, tropical trees. He could feel sand under his knees.

"No!" Voldemort screamed. But the scream wavered and then was cut off abruptly. Draco could hear waves lapping against sand. He opened his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't quite what he envisioned. He was definitely in the tropics, but there was also a huge tree house in one of the trees by the beach. That was not his making. The sky was also cloudy, as though it were about to rain at any moment.

Harry was still for a moment before thrusting Draco away from him. Startled, Draco watched him crawl away for a bit before pushing himself to his feet with his back facing him.

"Harry?" Draco asked quietly.

"What?" Harry demanded harshly.

"I don't know what to say," Draco said.

"Then do me a favor and don't say anything."

Draco frowned and looked out at the ocean. This wasn't the Harry that he knew, but he supposed he couldn't blame him. If Draco's secret fantasies had been aired, he'd have been pretty mortified too. But he had to know…

"Were they real?" he asked.

"What?" Harry said, not turning around.

"Those images," Draco clarified, sitting on his heels and staring at the back of Harry's head. "Were they real, or did he create them?"

Harry was silent for long enough to make Draco think he wouldn't reply. But then Harry spoke.

"Yes, they were real," he said in a horribly quiet voice. "Every single one of them. I've wanked to the thought of you for years. I've always wanted you. Is that what you want to hear?" he demanded, turning around and glaring at Draco, who was still kneeling in the sand. "You want me to tell you how ecstatic I was when we were forced to be partners? I'd never been so happy about anything in my life. I knew you hated me, but I'd get to see you, talk to you, interact with you every day. It was more than I could have hoped for."

He turned away again, staring at the waves. "I stored all your facial expressions, fantasized about what you might look like naked. I slept with more men than I can count and pretended it was you. Sickened yet? Horrified? I can't blame you. I'm pretty disgusted with myself."

Before Draco could speak, Harry marched away, toward the tree house. Knowing Harry as he did, he knew better than to follow immediately. He'd need time to calm down, to compose himself. And Draco needed the time to try to put his head back firmly on his shoulders.

But he couldn't. He had this warm, floaty feeling inside him. So what was he to do? The answer was obvious.

The tree house was high. The only way to reach it was to climb a rope ladder that dangled down to the ground. Draco got a firm grip on the rope and began to hoist himself up. The tree house must have been from Harry. Perhaps they built this place together, though they hadn't known it at the time. Maybe that was why it felt so secure. He hardly had to focus on the walls at all at that moment. He and Harry were protecting each other, subconsciously.

The ladder swayed a bit the higher up he went, but he didn't fall. At the top he pulled himself over the wood banister ungracefully. Looking around quickly, he was relieved to see that Harry was nowhere in sight. He didn't want the conversation that was about to take place happen right after he'd lumbered into the tree house like a drunk kneazle.

Draco stepped through the doorway and took in his surroundings. It was oddly spartan, with only a hammock hanging in the corner and a lamp on a table. Harry was standing at the window, staring out at the sea.

"Potter-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry interrupted. "Let's just… forget everything I said and that you saw. At least until this is over. If you want to not be partners anymore, I fully understand."

Draco couldn't see his face but he felt Harry's utter sadness. It made his heart ache.

"Potter… Harry…" his words trailed off. Harry's shoulders stiffened at the sound of his first name. Draco suddenly didn't have any words. What could he say? At a loss, he simply stared at Harry's back.

Harry turned around, his face serious. "We have to kill him," he said harshly. "Maybe here, in my mind, I can finally kill him right." Draco nodded.

"Perhaps," he said.

Potter began to pace. Draco loved his face when he was planning something. So strong and focused. Like when he was fucking someone, Draco now knew because he'd seen the memories. He shifted slightly. Potter continued to pace, deep in thought. It was very distracting.

Suddenly he realized he didn't need words. Looking away from Harry, he focused on the ceiling.

"I know magic can be done here, in our minds," Harry continued. "We've done it. I guess magic is a part of our souls as well? Not just something we do physically?"

"Mhhmm," Draco said, still staring at the ceiling and focusing hard.

"Right. Well that's comforting. I'll just have to kill him before he can kill me. Either with Avada Kedavra or… Maybe I could use my mind to crush his? But will that make him go away or make him crazy? He's crazy enough and it's already bloody maddening to have a part of him within me. Imagine that turning crazy… No. Never mind. Don't."

Draco smirked but remained silent, still focused on the ceiling.

"Perhaps you could teach me how to… I don't know. Maybe expel him from my mind? But can I do that when there's still a part of him attached to me? Merlin, this is weird. Is he now one person, attached to his soul, or is he still separate? But I can't imagine that he would be. It only makes sense that because he touched me, my mind, he would have molded to himself. Maybe that's why I had such a headache. It was from his own… reunion or something."

"It's just about Christmas time, you know," Draco said conversationally, finally looking back at Harry.

"So maybe if I… wait. What? Christmas? What?"

Harry looked adorably baffled. Draco pointed up.

"Mistletoe," he said softly. Harry eyes went up to the ceiling, where Draco had created a bit of mistletoe to hang down between them. "Mistletoe in the Caribbean."

"I… don't understand," Harry said, staring the plant.

"For the first time in your life, Potter, you're thinking too much."

Draco didn't give him a chance to respond. He stepped forward, grabbed Harry's shoulders, and did what he'd been dreaming about since he was thirteen years old.

Harry's mouth was slack at first, no doubt in shock, but Draco wouldn't release him. Even this awkward contact was incredibly thrilling. Harry tasted so good… musky and male. So much better than anything Draco had ever encountered. Harry shifted and Draco was afraid he was going to push him away, but he didn't. His arms wrapped around Draco's waist and pulled him closer until they were pressed against each other.

Heart soaring, Draco slid his hands to Harry's shoulders and held on for dear life as their mouths molded together. The room felt like it was spinning, or rocking, or both. Had Harry not been holding onto him, he would surely have collapsed. They nibbled each other's lips, delighting in each shudder and sigh. Outside, Draco could hear the soft patter of rain beginning to fall.

Harry pulled back and Draco moved as if to follow but Harry stopped him, a questioning look on his face. "Since when?" he asked, and Draco knew what he was asking.

"Third year," he whispered. Those gorgeous green eyes widened behind his spectacles. Draco felt his face turning red, but didn't look away.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Draco replied, his voice almost too soft. "You were my first… well. Everything. First person I had a crush on, first person I had a wet dream about." It was Harry's turn to blush. "I was horrified, of course. But… it didn't go away. Sixth year was the hardest because I had to…"

"I know," Harry interrupted gently. "And after?"

"I didn't see you for a few years and then we were Aurors," Draco continued, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck. Harry still hadn't released his waist. "There you were, all tall and manly. I didn't know what to do. And then they wanted us to be partners… I almost protested. Being with you every day, seeing your face and hearing your voice, but knowing there was no chance…"

"Why?"

"I thought you were straight. Ginevra Weasley… you two made a very convincing picture. You played straight very well, I had no idea."

"Huh. Yeah, I thought… huh."

Harry looked amused, no doubt at their shared stupidity. Draco grinned and kissed him again.

"What did we create?" Harry asked, looking around the jungle surrounding the tree house. They'd left the haven of the tree house to have a look at their shared vision. It was still softly raining, though it felt calming. More like a gentle mist than actual rain.

"A safe place," Draco replied. "I think we had the same idea for the same thing at the same time and since our minds have been linked together for so long, we just melded our two visions together into one. It's quite safe here, though."

"Yeah, I feel that, too," Harry said softly. "I mean, I feel that other presence out there… somewhere… but it's like it can't touch us here."

Draco smiled. "So what's with the tree house?"

"Oh," Harry grinned. "When I was little I'd imagine somewhere that I could go to escape from my family. The idea of a tree house was always interesting to me. When I was being punished, I'd sit and think about how it would look, what would be inside. What I'd do there. It's probably why it's the clearest thing I've made so far. And you? Why the tropics?"

"I wanted somewhere that wasn't obvious," Draco said with a shrug. "I saw a picture in a magazine years ago and the image stuck. I think Voldemort has to find us before he can attack, and how would he even think to go looking for a Caribbean getaway? It's never been foremost in my mind, just something I've randomly pondered."

"Yeah, same thing with the tree house," Harry said. "I haven't thought about it since I was a kid."

They were silent for a moment. Harry reached out and held Draco's hand as they stared out at the beach. It made Draco's heart lift and stomach drop pleasantly.

"I could stay here forever," Harry whispered.

"Me too," Draco replied. "But we can't, Harry."

"Always the optimist," Harry said wryly.

"We need to kill him. Soon. I have all the faith in the world that you can, Harry. And then… we can wake up and see…"

"I want to keep seeing you," Harry said in a rush. He turned his head and Draco looked into his eyes. "Now that I've kissed you, especially. I'm not letting that go."

Draco smirked. "Well. I can't blame you."

Harry stepped closer and took Draco's other hand so that they stood on the edge of the beach facing each other.

"I've wanted you for so long," Harry murmured. Draco's hands tingled and he reflexively tightened his hold on Harry. "Being able to say it now, to look at you and know I'm permitted to feel… what I'm feeling… It's so liberating and… Well. I've never been happier than right now, actually. Even knowing I'm about to face Voldemort again, I know I have you as well. Wanting to see what happens is what is going to help me defeat him. I have to know what happens with us next."

Unable to speak, Draco nodded. Harry leaned forward and kissed him softly. The misty rain continued to fall as they held each other and kissed for many long moments before Harry finally pulled back with a slight groan.

"Merlin, you're distracting," he said scrubbing a hand through his hair and flinging water everywhere. "We need a plan so that we can go home and do this for real!"

"Right," Draco said, taking deep breaths to clear his foggy head. "I don't think he'll be expecting us to attack him."

"Offensive strike this time," Harry said, suddenly businesslike, though one of his hands still held Draco's.

"Yes. There's still something I don't understand…"

"What's that?"

"What is a Horcrux?"

Harry's hand twitched and his face hardened. "It's a vile thing. When you kill someone, it rips your soul up. A Horcrux is when you take that piece of soul and put it into an object. Voldemort did it seven times."

Draco gapped at him. "What?"

"Yeah. It's… horrible. He spread his mangled soul all over the place in Horcruxes and we had to find them and destroy them. I thought we got them all… but I didn't realize that when the curse rebounded on him when I was a baby a piece broke off and planted itself in me. Merlin… It explains so much!"

He dropped Draco's hand and began to pace along the beach, talking almost as if to himself. Draco watched, curious.

"The connection! Why I could feel him, why he could access my thoughts! Why he can find me, always find me when we Occlude and create these visions! And now, you and I, Draco, are connected subconsciously through this whole thing which is why he can read your thoughts as well. I can kill him. I have to, or else this will just keep going. He'll keep coming back. I'm going to kill him.

"I'm going to Avada him," Harry said. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think… you have the capability of that?" he asked. "Knowing the kind of emotion that takes?"

"Well I have to try," Harry said with a weak smile. "It's the only thing I think can work. I don't know what he's up to, but he needs to die, Draco. I need to kill that part of soul that remains. The one inside of me, the one he's reunited with. It's the only way."

"I know," Draco said, stepping closer. "Are you ready?"

"Now?"

Draco heard the panic, saw the fear in his eyes, but Harry tucked it away as quickly as it appeared.

"Why wait?" Draco said. "I want this over. And then I want to take you home."

Harry looked blank for a moment before it dawned on him what Draco meant. His cheeks turned pink and Draco grinned.

"Right. Yeah. Now. Let's go."

"Focus, Potter," Draco said, smirking.

"Totally focused."

"Focus on what we're about to do, not what happens after." Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded. "I'm here with you this time. I'll help in any way I can."

Harry took a deep breath and framed Draco's face with his hands and kissed him hard. It wasn't a farewell. Draco knew it was a promise. For what was about to happen, or for their future, Draco didn't know. But he took it and kept it. It gave him strength against the fear that was beginning to eat away at his heart.

"On three?" Harry asked against his lips.

"Yes, then push away the projected image and wait," Draco replied. "He'll find us."

Harry nodded. "Someday we can go to the Caribbean for real."

"I think I might have seen something, somewhere, where you can even rent tree houses."

"Perfect," he said with a grin. It slipped away, however. It was time. "One," he said, pulling out his wand. "Two," Draco grabbed his own wand and stared at Harry hard, memorizing that face because he was pretty sure they wouldn't be looking at each other in the minutes to come. "Three."

It was harder than expected to push their shared image away. Their haven had been safe, secure, and a place of discovery for each of them. Now, knowing what they were about to face, Draco felt slightly melancholy about letting their vision go. He refused to look away from Harry's eyes as the image melted away. He could see the ocean blur and then vanish in his peripheral vision. Soon they were left in the sheer blackness of nothing. He could see Harry perfectly, as though a light was trained on him, but there was nothing else around them.

Harder still was not creating another image to protect them. Leaving the mind completely bare was wrong to Draco, but he knew he had to do it. There was no way of finding Voldemort if they kept running and hiding. Draco kept his mind carefully blank while seeking out that putrid presence that had haunted them from the beginning. It was there, in the darkness. Draco tried to catch it, to force it to show itself, but it danced just out of reach.

The vision was so abrupt that it made Draco dizzy. One moment they were floating along in darkness, and then they were standing in a field. The tall green grasses flirted with Draco's legs as he took a few staggering steps.

"We're in Hogsmeade," Harry muttered, looking around. Draco heard the screams before he saw anything. His stomach heaved when he looked over in time to see someone's face cut open by a hex.

"You're in my mind now," said a dark, sibilant voice. "You're in my visions, my hideaway."

"Is this what you think about?" Harry demanded, looking about and trying to find their tormenter. "Is this where your twisted mind goes?"

"Yes," the voice said simply. "I've thought quite a bit about this day. Where it went wrong. But now I know how to fix it."

Voldemort appeared before them, materializing from nothing. It was his dream. He could do as he pleased. The thought frightened Draco, who didn't know how to counteract it. But Harry appeared confidant. He raised his wand without a quiver.

Around them the battle slowed and then froze. Flashes of light were caught mid-air. People were completely still in poses of battle. The bright sunlight seemed at odds with such a violent image.

"There's nothing to fix," Harry snarled, raising his wand with the intent to strike.

"I wouldn't do that, Harry," Voldemort said with a smirk. "If I die, you die. I am a part of you now. When you let me in, when I reconnected with that bit of soul, I got a hold of your mind."

"Then what is the point of this?" Harry asked with a shake of his head. "Why are you here still? In my mind? Why haven't you left to get your body back?"

Voldemort tilted his head, as though mildly surprised. "Why, you haven't figured it out yet, have you?" His scarlet eyes strayed to Draco who, instead of cowering at his gaze, forced himself to stand straight and proud. "Neither of you understand yet?"

"Why do you talk so much?" Draco demanded, raising his own wand. "I've had enough!"

"If you do that, you'll kill us all," Voldemort said sharply. "You kill me, we all die. You're connected to Potter right now, just as I am. I told you, Draco Malfoy; you are free to leave at any time. But you won't. You've refused so far. All you need to do is wake up and this was all a bad dream. But if you try to kill me, you'll destroy Potter's mind because I have a firm hold on it."

"And if I kill you?" Harry asked quietly. His eyes… something was wrong.

"It's the same thing, Harry," Voldemort replied. "You kill me, you destroy yourself. But if _I_ kill _you_, well. That's different."

"How?" Draco suddenly realized what was wrong. Harry looked defeated.

Voldemort smiled and it was vile. "You have no hold over me. I doubt you even know how. So instead of all of us dying, it would just be you. And Draco, of course, if he hasn't decided to leave by then. I don't need another presence in the mind of my new body."

"No!" Draco cried. "No! That's… no."

"Yes, I see you finally got there. Imagine all that I could do, could accomplish, from the body of Harry Potter. You see, I wouldn't be strong enough to be resurrected once more to my real body. Instead I'll just take the one that part of my soul has gotten comfortable with. It took me years to get here. It took careful planning and consideration. I had to possess a child, but it was worth it."

"Madeline," Harry whispered. "You used her."

"I jumped to you when you touched her," Voldemort said gleefully. "Would you like to know the best part? Had young Mr. Malfoy not come barreling in, it would never have worked. Due to your weakness towards him, I've now won. There's no way you get out of this alive, Potter, even if you do kill me."

His insane laughter rolled across the fields and battered Draco's mind. There had to be a way, somehow there had to be a different answer. They needed time. He'd take them back to their paradise, just for a little while, just to plan. He began to gather himself, tuning out Voldemort, who was still laughing, focusing on Harry.

But it wasn't working. Instead of feeling closer to Harry, he felt a distance, a breaking of their connection.

"Harry! What's happening?" Draco cried, reaching from him. Bricks began to appear between them.

And Harry did nothing.

"HARRY!" They piled up, one on top of the other, next to each other, growing into a wall. Draco pushed against it, but it held firm. "Harry, what's going on?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said sadly. "I can't let you die for me."

"I won't! We can go back to our place, we can plan! Stop this!"

"No," he said softly. Behind him, feet away, Voldemort stopped laughing but still had a smirk on his face. He watched keenly as the wall grew. "There is no plan, Draco. There is no other way to end it."

"You're not going to let him win!" Draco gasped.

"Of course not," he replied, a hint of his old stubbornness appearing before sliding away. "But I'm not going to let you stay."

The wall grew faster. Soon it would block out the field, Harry, and Voldemort.

"Harry, I don't understand! Let me help you!"

"You can't help, not with this."

The bricks stopped appearing at shoulder height. Harry approached and reached over the wall, touching Draco's cheek. Panicked, he grabbed that hand tight. Over Harry's shoulder Voldemort's smirk grew, but he did nothing.

"He's letting me make you leave," Harry said softly. "You're nothing to him. He wants it to be just him and me."

"I'm begging you," Draco said, his throat tight. "Don't make me leave. Let me stay with you."

"There's no point in you dying."

"We won't die! I refuse to believe that!"

"Goodbye, Draco. I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to make a move sooner."

Draco cried out in denial, shoving against the wall physically and mentally trying to break it down. But Harry had finally found the focus to keep it strong.

"I'll hate you as long as I live if you do this to me!" Draco yelled.

"The point is that you'll live."

Bricks began to clunk into place again.

"No!"

Harry's sad eyes watched as Draco threw himself against the wall, but he didn't move. There was one last moment where Draco could see his face, long enough for him to see Harry mouth the words, "I love you," and then there was only the wall.

Coming back to his physical body was like waking from a falling dream. His heart stuttered in his chest and his senses tingled slightly.

"He's awake!"

Granger's voice cut through his throbbing head like a serrated knife. His eyes watered in shocked pain. The light of the room was so bright…

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know! Draco? Draco, are you alright?"

No. No, he was not alright. His head hurt like a bitch and his body felt like it was being jabbed by pins and needles. And there was a vague feeling that he should be remembering something… Perhaps from his dream? But that wasn't a dream…

Harry. Voldemort. The wall.

"No!" Draco groaned, forcing himself upright and squinting into the room. "No, Harry!"

Draco was in Harry's hospital room on a bed that appeared to have been rolled in next to Harry's. Harry was still asleep. He looked exactly the same as the last time Draco had seen him thus. His mouth was even still open.

"Harry!"

Draco tried to launch himself up and over to Harry, but hands grabbed him and held him down.

"Draco, calm down!" Granger cried. "You have to calm down! You've been asleep for days!"

That statement caused Draco to pause and look up at her in shock. "_Days?_"

"Yes," she said with an emphatic nod. "You tried to look into Harry's mind and then blacked out. You've been unreachable, just like him. What happened?"

"It was… I don't… There's no time! I have to go back!"

"But Draco-"

They were interrupted by Harry's heart monitor. Where seconds ago it had been slow and even, it suddenly beeped loudly, erratically. There was a little red light that was flashing above the monitor.

"What-?"

Harry began to shake. Draco cried out, forcing himself onto unsteady and sharply painful legs to grab Harry's shoulders, but he kept shaking. It got more and more forceful until Harry's head was whipped back and forth like a doll's.

Dimly he heard someone say, "_Get Snape! Get a healer! Get somebody!_"

Draco was about to seize his wand and jump back into Harry's mind when Harry fell limp. The silence of the room was deafening. Draco's own heart stopped beating. It was so quiet that it felt like there was pressure on his ears, his head, his chest, growing stronger and stronger - and then there was a faint beep. The monitor showed one little blip, where there'd been a heartbeat. And then another. Draco breathed again as it felt as if his heart started working once more, with much more force than before.

"He's okay…" Draco whispered. Harry must have defeated Voldemort! He must have killed him! And he won! He was still alive! "Harry," Draco murmured, leaning over Harry's face. "Harry, you can wake up now."

"Draco," Granger whispered.

"Not now, Granger," Draco replied impatiently, not looking away from Harry's pale face. He would wake up any moment…

"Draco, look at the monitor."

"I did, and his heart is beating now! He's fine! He's…" But Draco now saw what she meant. Harry's heart was beating normally. But there was another monitor above the one for his heart. The one that measured brain patterns. Before, Harry's mind had been working diligently and the monitor showed fluxes and dips. Now there was nothing.

"What happened here?"

Draco looked over his shoulder at Snape, who stood in the doorway next to one of the healers.

Weasley's voice was oddly rough as he replied, "Harry had some sort of weird… seizure? Yeah, it looked like a seizure."

The healer came to Draco's side and was trying to pepper him with questions. _Are you alright? What happened? Do you feel any pain?_ But Draco ignored him, turning back to Harry. The healer gave up as another came in to check Harry's vitals.

"He's physically fine, once more," the healer said, though her face was drawn. "But now I'm not getting any sort of brain activity."

"You mean… what do you mean?" Granger sounded scared.

"He's essentially brain dead," the healer replied.

Granger and Weasley both gasped. Draco just stared at the healer. Brain dead? What had Harry done? How could this happen?

"Draco, you need to tell us what happened in there," Granger said quietly. She'd come closer behind him and then he felt her hand on his shoulder.

Turning his gaze back to Harry's face, he told them almost everything. He started at the beginning, with Harry in the Quidditch Pitch. He told them about how Voldemort had used Granger's image to get in, how they'd had to keep jumping from vision to vision just to stay ahead of Voldemort's presence. He left out the personal things, and their tree house. He figured it was none of their business. When he got the part about the Horcruxes, however, he turned to Granger.

"Voldemort said that there was still a part of himself within Harry, and that was how he'd survived even though Harry had gotten rid of all the Horcruxes."

Granger's face paled and she looked at Weasley. "We thought we got them all… Oh my. And that's how he got into Harry's mind?"

"Yeah," Draco replied. "He planned on killing Harry's consciousness and taking over his body."

"No!" Weasley lurched out his chair and approached Harry's side. He shook Harry's shoulder, smacked his face.

"Ron, stop!" Granger cried. Draco leaned over Harry protectively and shoved Weasley back. Weasley didn't even seem to notice. Granger grabbed Weasley's arms. "That won't do anything!"

"I won't have that _bastard_ take Harry!" Weasley yelled. "I'll kill him myself!"

"Wait!" Draco snapped. "Just wait. I don't think he did. He'd have woken up by now. No doubt to monologue."

"But then what happened?" Granger asked, still keeping Weasley at a distance from Harry.

"Voldemort said something about how Potter couldn't kill him because he, Voldemort, had a hold of Harry's mind. But that he could kill Harry just fine. I don't really understand."

"Let me guess," Snape murmured. "Potter threw you out? Refused you entry to his mind any longer?"

"Yeah," Draco said, frowning. "He built up a wall. He wouldn't let me help."

Snape flexed his jaw and looked down at Harry with contempt. "Of course. How very… Gryffindor."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, Mr. Malfoy, that he knew Voldemort was right. He made you leave so that he could do the noble thing, sacrifice himself to defeat evil, without killing you as well."

Draco felt suddenly hollow. "Voldemort… was right? But Harry's not dead! His heart is still beating!"

"And his mind is gone," Snape replied. "No brain function. Potter killed himself, to kill Voldemort. Voldemort is now gone for good, but so is Potter. All that is left is a shell."

"No!" Draco screamed. Granger, Weasley, Snape, and the remaining healer all took a step back. "No! No no no! He's not that stupid! NO!"

Draco lurched to his feet unsteadily and grabbed his wand. His thoughts, his focus, all turned to Harry.

"Draco, there's no point-"

"SHUT UP! There is a point! He's still there! He has to be!"

Granger looked hopeless but Draco ignored her. Raising his wand, he pointed right between Harry's eyes.

"_Legilimens!_"

Nothing happened. Draco stared at Harry's face in shock.

"Draco, maybe we should-"

"_Legilimens!_"

"Mr. Malfoy…"

"NO! _Legilimens! Legilimens!_"

"Malfoy, there's nothing left."

Even Weasley was ready to give up. But Draco would not. Focusing as hard as he could, he tried once more.

"_LEGILIMENS! _"

There was no barrier this time. One moment Draco was in St. Mungo's, and then next his was in a huge white room. Large picture frames were mounted on the walls. They looked like they were old fashioned, but covered in white paint. There was no color anywhere.

He stood, frozen. What was he supposed to do? Where was he? Unsure of himself, Draco took a step and it echoed hollowly. There was a sound, so soft he could barely hear it, and movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over sharply.

"Harry?"

The portraits lit with color, all showing something different as hundreds of voices all started saying, "_Harry?"_

_Harry!_

_Harry…_

Draco gasped in utter shock at the sudden noise and chaos of color. One portrait showed Harry on the Quidditch Pitch and the crowd chanting his name. Another showed Weasley's mother calling out her back door for everyone, including Harry, to come back inside. They were all like that – people calling Harry's name.

"_Harry!"_

"_Harry?"_

"_Harry…"_

It was completely disorienting and Draco had no time to try and puzzle it out before it all melted away. The visions and the voices together died off. The paintings went blank once more.

The silence was almost as shocking as the noise had been. Completely bewildered, Draco just stared at the closest blank frame. What was he supposed to do? What did this all mean? Obviously Harry was still here… somewhere… He took another step.

Another noise broke the silence, the same noise he'd heard when he'd first arrived. Louder now, Draco could finally figure out what it was. It was giggling. Coming from nowhere, yet everywhere, was a child's sneaky laughter. It made Draco want to smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something hurry past. He turned just in time to see the back of a little boy with jet black hair before he vanished like a puff of smoke.

"Harry," Draco said again, readying himself for another onslaught of noise, "it's Draco."

"_Draco."_

"_Draco!"_

"_Draco…"_

"_DRACO!"_

The noise was staggering. The portraits showed Draco at all ages, from when he was in Hogwarts to when he was made an Auror. All were Harry's view of him. He watched himself smirking from across a Potion's classroom, calling out insults from the back of a broom, holding a wand on Albus Dumbledore, conjuring mistletoe in a tree house. And there were other things. Harry in bed with his cock in his hand murmuring Draco name. A couple of images were of Draco magically blocking a child's bad memories, or holding back their excess magic.

The portraits went blank once more and the voices died out. Draco shook his head, baffled.

"Draco?"

Draco spun around, his heart in his throat. This voice was not echoing from the walls, but came from inside the room itself. A few feet away stood Harry, but he could only be eleven years old. He looked exactly like he had the first time Draco had seen him in Diagon Alley; short, scrawny, wearing ridiculous round glasses and clothes that were much too large for him.

"Yes?" Draco replied, his voice oddly high.

"Draco… the boy from the robe shop?"

Draco smiled but then the boy vanished like smoke. Draco was alone again. Panicked, Draco called out again.

"It's Draco! I'm Draco, your partner!"

"_Draco…"_

"_Draco!"_

"_Draco."_

Draco saw himself in the portraits once more. He was tying together two men accused of raping a child, found a few years ago. He was doing paperwork in their shared cubicle, the end of his quill between his teeth. He was teaching Harry how to create dreams…

Harry was thinking about him and touching himself in the shower.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco spun around to face the new visitor, standing close by and shrouded in his habitual black robe. He looked like a splotch of black ink on a piece of white paper. But was he real?

"Snape? Is that really you?"

"_Snape."_

"_Snape…"_

"_SNAPE!"_

"_Snape?"_

"What the hell?" Snape gasped, his one eye looking around in alarm.

The portraits were now featuring Snape in various ways. Sitting at the head table, both eyes whole and uncovered. Stalking around the Potions classroom. In his office at Hogwarts, pointing his wand at Harry and performing Legilimency. At the top of the Astronomy Tower, green light flashing and Dumbledore falling. In a field of tall grasses, his face hit by a curse and pouring blood.

Then everything faded once again.

Draco and Snape looked at each other for a long moment. Draco shrugged. Snape opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

"Snape?" The child version of Harry was back. Draco and Snape watched him in silence. "Snape… scares me…" The vision shifted, growing several inches and then it was the Harry Draco knew. His heart leapt. "Snape… saved us…" And then he shrank slightly and Draco's hope died. This wasn't… quite _Harry_ yet. "Snape…" the teenaged version of Harry said. "Snape… is a git."

And then he vanished.

"How very… peculiar," Snape said. He looked a little irritated.

"Do you know what's happening?" Draco asked hopefully.

"His mind is ripped to shreds," Snape replied. "I'm not sure there's any hope."

"I have to try."

"Why?"

"I love him."

_Love. _

"_Love…"_

The portraits appeared once again. They showed many different people who Harry knew. Granger, Weasley, Lupin, Sirius Black, the whole Weasley family it seemed. All of whom were smiling, laughing, giving Harry hugs and slaps on the back. And then there was the tree house.

Draco made a shocked noise, almost as if he were in pain. The portraits melted, shifted, and became something else. Harry was in the Hospital wing at Hogwarts grimacing in pain and holding his right arm, he was bitten by a huge snake, he was being Crucioed by Voldemort in a cemetery. Images of pain, because Draco had made a pained noise.

The images faded and Draco was glad. "Do you understand any of this?" he asked Snape.

"All might not be lost… there are threads, which is more than I had anticipated. They're just not connected to each other."

"How do I fix it?"

"That I do not know," Snape said with a shake of his head. "I don't know Potter like you and Granger do."

Draco bit back his disappointment. Around them images of Granger filled the portraits. Being called to the Sorting Hat, conjuring a silver otter, dressed for the Yule Ball.

"Would you send her?" Draco asked. Snape raised a brow, no doubt insulted at being asked to play messenger. Draco huffed. "Maybe she and I can come up with something. She's supposed to be smart."

"If _I_ can't figure this mess out…"

"Please?" Draco asked again.

"Fine." He was gone before Draco could thank him.

Draco remained silent as he waited. The room stayed completely blank. No sound. No movement. It was almost as if it needed a push in order to act, like Harry needed someone to feed him lines. But when there was silence, nothing could happen.

Granger appeared after a few minutes with Weasley in tow. Draco raised an eyebrow at the addition.

"What happened with Snape? He left after…"

_Snape?_

_Snape._

_SNAPE!_

Draco's eyes reflexively snapped to the portraits. Snape was blowing apart bushes in the garden at the Yule ball. He was prowling the halls. He was limping with a bloody bite mark on his leg.

"What on earth?" Granger whispered.

"I'd hoped you could tell me," Draco replied. "Why'd you bring him?" He gestured to Weasley, who frowned.

"Ron is Harry's friend too," Granger said.

_Ron!_

_Ron._

_RON!_

_Ron?_

An eleven year old Harry and Ron were seated on the Hogwarts Express together. They were opening presents in their dorm. They were flying a blue car. Weasley was being dragged by a great black dog toward the Whomping Willow. He was wearing horrible dress robes and looking miserable. He was trying pull what looked like brains off of himself. He was writhing on the floor of Slughorn's office with foam pouring from his mouth. He was at Harry's side during the final battle, facing Voldemort and showing no fear. He was helping Harry move a couch into a flat.

"It's like this," Draco said. "Everything's blank until you say something."

The images and voices saying 'Ron' were beginning to fade. Granger pursed her lips for a moment and then said, quite forcefully, "Hermione!"

_Hermione?_

_Hermione!_

_Hermione._

_Hermione…_

Granger was fixing Harry's glasses, she was covered in fur, she was lying completely still, petrified, in the hospital wing, she was pulling what looked like a gold necklace out of the neck of her robes and spinning it, she was teaching Harry how to Summon things and they were surrounded by cushions and books, she was being hit by a curse and going limp, she was crying in Weasley's arms during a funeral, she was bringing Harry a sack of food in the Auror department with a smile and telling him to remember his own lunch next time, she was sitting on a couch with a crying Harry who was telling her he was gay…

Weasley made an inarticulate noise, staring at the portrait of Granger and Harry on the couch. He then coughed, scratched his head, and shrugged at Granger. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. "Now shush. What does all this mean?"

Weasley looked back at the portrait, bewildered but not upset. Granger began to pace and Draco watched her with little patience. While this whole scenario was interesting, it was also maddening. The voices were exasperating, though the latest round was fading away. He found it hard to think here, where Harry's thoughts had no connecting thread.

"It's like he needs us to be able to have brain patterns," Granger murmured, almost as if to herself. She continued to pace. "These memories, these thoughts, have no link to each other. How on earth do we connect them?"

The portraits all showed the same thing – some sort of game where a very young Harry was dropping red and blue coins into slots. Granger smiled.

"Connect-Four," she said. Draco raised his eyebrows in question. "A Muggle game," Granger clarified. "He can understand us, in a way. Harry?" she called.

_Harry._

_Harry!_

_Harry?_

_Harry…_

Harry was being called to the Sorting Hat, Draco's old house-elf was at his bedside in the Hospital wing, Snape was tormenting him in Potions class, the Goblet of Fire was tossing his name out for Dumbledore to catch, Voldemort was taunting him in a graveyard, people were calling out to him in the grasses of the field outside of Hogsmeade. And through all these images, these many portraits, was Draco. Draco smirking, smiling, laughing rarely, working.

Weasley shifted. "He seems to think a lot about-"

"DON'T say my name!" Draco warned. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with Potter's friends if they found out about Harry's fantasies or about the tree house too soon.

Weasley shot Draco his middle finger, but remained silent. The giggling came back. They all looked around until – there! The eleven year old Harry was standing before them.

"He's usually eleven," Draco said softly. "Last time he grew and shrank, but he always starts eleven."

"Of course!" Granger said, sounding triumphant. "To him, that's when his life truly began! When he found out who he was! _What_ he was!"

Young Harry looked at them all with his brows furrowed for a moment before his face split into a wide, happy grin. "I love you!" he said joyously, but then his face fell a bit. "I think."

"Yep," Weasley said. "He's cracked."

Granger ignored him. "Who do you love?" she said to the boy.

Harry grinned once more. "All of you!" And then, again, it faded. "I think."

Weasley snorted. "Even Draco?"

_Draco?_

_Draco._

_DRACO!_

_Draco…_

Draco's heart fell as young Harry vanished and the portraits came to colored life once more. Most were of Harry watching Draco at work or in their cubicle. But then there were those other memories of Harry wanking, of his fantasies of Draco. Draco felt his face flush as Weasley jumped, his eyes darting everywhere.

"AH!" he yelled. "AAAHHH!"

"Oh, Ron-" Granger tried to grab his arm but Weasley was wheeling around, looking horrified.

"AAAHH! I DON'T NEED TO SEE THIS! TURN IT OFF! AAARRRGG!"

Granger made a motion with her arm, a shove in Weasley's direction, and he vanished. The portraits were suddenly full of scenes of Harry's friends screaming. Granger, Weasley, Lovegood, Ginny Weasley. They were screaming in fear or pain. The sounds collided together, forming a horrible symphony.

"No, Harry, think of Draco! DRACO!" Granger yelled.

_Draco!_

_Draco…_

The portraits became Draco once again. His own name was murmured over and over. Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or mortified.

"What is the tree house?"

The scenes shifted to just the tree house. The falling rain, the hammock. Draco conjuring mistletoe.

"It was a mental safe place for him as a child," Draco said. Then, feeling she had best have the whole-ish- story, he haltingly continued, "It was there where we… finally talked about… how we felt about each other. We conjured a safe place together to hide from…him."

He didn't want to say Voldemort's name. He didn't want to see all of Harry memories of him, painted out for them to look at.

"Oh," Granger said in a small voice. "You know, I think you'd be the best person to handle this situation."

"Why?"

"Well… we are technically in the mind of a child, I guess. Even if it is Harry."

_Harry!_

_Harry?_

_Harry…_

Draco ignored the portraits and voices. "But this… I've never seen anything like it! I deal with excess magic (_magic…magic…magic…_), with blocking unwanted memories. This is something totally different! Harry was the one who dealt with the emotional aspect."

"Try. You have to try. You're the only one who knows his mind, the only one who's been invited in. You'd understand him better than all of us."

"Yes, but I…"

The voices faded, the portraits were blank once more, and the giggling returned. Young Harry ran happily through the middle of the room, almost as if he was playing hide and seek with an invisible friend. It reminded Draco of Harry and the Christmas tree. So rarely did he see his partner actually happy, joyful. It was only through his memories that he got to see it fully.

Harry's memories. Draco's heart began to pound as realization began to sink in. The portraits were Harry's memories. Then what was the boy? Not a memory… Something else. A part of Harry. Harry's consciousness? Was it that simple? Young Harry ran around and around, laughing the whole time. Not a care in the world.

"Harry?" Draco called, stepping toward the child, but he vanished and the portraits reappeared, showing memories of Harry's name being said or called. The voices filled the room, echoing over and over. Granger looked about to say something, but Draco shook his head. Together they waited as the memories, the voices, faded, leaving the room bare once more. They stood in the silence, staring all around, but nothing happened. Draco took a step and his movement seemed to trigger the giggling once again. The boy reappeared, running between Draco and Granger. Reflexively, Draco reached out and grabbed young Harry by the arm, bringing him to a halt.

Cautiously, Draco said, "Harry?"

"I'm Harry!" the boy said standing tall. Then he seemed to deflate a bit. "I think." The portraits, the voices, didn't come back. "What?" Harry said, looking at Draco's hand. "Are you going to prank me? You do that, don't you?"

Once I did, Draco almost said, but now wasn't the time. If it worked out like he hoped, Harry would simply remember. He shifted his grip down so that he could take Harry's hand in his own.

"I want to show you something," Draco said, guiding Harry to a portrait. Granger watched silently. "Look at the portrait, okay? Now watch. Hogwarts!"

Draco said it loudly, prompting whatever kicked Harry's memories into action. The blank stretch in the frame suddenly showed Hogwarts, the corridors, the classrooms, Harry in classes, running through hallways, pushing aside tapestries. The hold on Draco's hand became slack. Young Harry's face was avid as he watched himself in school.

Draco then said, "Quidditch." Harry was on a broom and chasing a Snitch, he was at the Quidditch World Cup, he was trying to escape a rogue Bludger. Harry dropped Draco's hand, watching himself with wide eyes.

"Friends."

The vision of Harry didn't disappear this time when Draco prompted the memories. He simply stood and stared as Granger, Weasley, Lovegood, Longbottom, Lupin, Black, and Hagrid appeared in the frames. All the portraits showed someone different. Harry backed up to the middle of the room, staring avidly. His face was changing. He was growing taller. Heartened, Draco continued.

"Work."

Auror trials, chasing Dark Wizards through alleys, their cubicle, hugging children, receiving letters from all the kids he'd helped. Harry began to walk, slowly at first, and then faster to see as many portraits as possible.

"Family."

Draco almost didn't want to say this one, but it was a part of who Harry was. First came the visions of Harry's horrid Uncle, Aunt, and cousin, but they soon became replaced with the Weasleys, Granger, and Lupin. Family dinners, games out in the garden. Hagrid tossing laughing and smiling people off a dock into a pond.

Harry continued to grow and mature. He ran from frame to frame, watching himself, watching his friends. Granger gave Draco a smile, an encouraging nod, and then she vanished. Draco continued to prompt Harry with words, making different images appear. Harry watched them all eagerly, but he seemed to have forgotten Draco himself completely.

Draco continued with words, whatever popped into his mind. He lost track and was sure he repeated himself. The voices were driving him spare. He couldn't tune them out. But he didn't want to stop. Was he doing this right? Was this helping? It looked like it – it appeared that he'd managed to get Harry's memories and consciousness tied together once more, but what if he was wrong? What if he stopped and suddenly Harry reverted completely?

His heart sank. What if there really was no way to get Harry completely back so that he could think on his own? The only way to see was to stop talking…

He went quiet. At first, Harry continued to run from frame to frame, but the memories soon began to fade. Panicked, Draco was on the verge of speaking once more when Harry spoke first.

"Friends," Harry said.

The portraits popped back into colored life, showing Granger, Weasley, Lovegood, Hagrid, Longbottom. Even Draco.

"Work," Harry said next.

Draco watched, stunned and elated, as visions of their cubicle, of their raids and rescues, all started to appear. Harry appeared delighted and started to prompt himself. He hurried around the room, taking it all in, talking excitedly to himself. All the time, Draco watched.

Harry then came to a halt, watching all the portraits with a smile on his face, but then it faded.

"I'm forgetting something," he murmured. Draco felt sudden alarm. He's already forgetting? But Harry continued. He was talking to himself, like he didn't realize Draco was there. "Friends, work, school… family. Family… family has… oh!"

The white walls seemed to shove themselves back. The floor beneath their feet dropped swiftly. There was a roaring in Draco's ears as the walls and floor zoomed away. Where there had been pure white, now there was sand, a clear blue sky, bright green leaves on exotic trees. In one of those trees was a child's dream tree house. Draco stared at it.

They were in their paradise. Not looking at a portrait of it, but actually there.

"Families have love," Harry said softly. Draco turned his head. Harry was standing beside him, looking straight into his eyes. "I have love. For you."

Utterly speechless, Draco could only stare. Harry came closer, reaching his hand out to touch Draco's arm. His eyes were clear, calm. He seemed totally at ease.

"You…" Draco cleared his throat and tried again. "You… utter….complete… ASSHOLE!"

Harry blinked. Draco launched himself forward, smacking Harry over and over in the chest in a fury.

"Hey!" Harry cried. "HEY! Cut it out!"

"I can't believe you!" Draco yelled. "You left me! You shoved me away! HOW DARE YOU! You go off to kill yourself, leaving me behind to what? Wring my hands and KNIT? You say you love me and then force me away? You… you... stupid… GRYFFINDOR!"

"I couldn't let you die!" Harry said, grabbing Draco's hands to stop his hitting. "I couldn't bear the thought of you dead!"

"WHAT ABOUT ME?" Draco screamed. "What about what I could bear or not? I've loved you since I was eleven years old!" Harry's hands went slack with shock. Draco wrenched himself back a few steps, chest heaving slightly. "Life without you? I… I couldn't do it. Even if you were just my work partner, you were there. And now that I know how you feel? Knowing it but never seeing you again… I…"

His anger was now completely gone. Harry was standing right in front of him. Perfectly fine, his mind whole once more. And they were arguing? No. The time for that was later.

He shocked Harry once again when he shoved himself forward but instead of wanting to beat the living tar out of him, he pulled Harry close and kissed him hard. Harry made a noise, somewhere between a gasp of surprise and a groan. Draco felt his arms wrap around his back and he was pulled even closer.

Harry pulled back just long enough to murmur, "I'll never do it again." And then they were kissing once more.

Back in his own body, breathing real air into his real lungs, Draco looked up at through the branches of the Christmas tree in pure contentment. Harry was right – the lights looked even more beautiful when your vision was blurred. They'd used an Obscuro charm to make his vision fuzzy before climbing under the tree together. Now, lying side by side and holding hands, they watched the blurred fairy lights dance from branch to branch. Harry's glasses were safely in Draco's pocket.

"I don't know whether to like your friends, or kill them," Draco said after a while. Harry squeezed his hand.

"You'll get used to them," Harry said.

"Especially those twins," Draco continued.

Harry laughed and replied, "They just voiced what everyone was thinking."

The Weasley family had been cautiously welcoming of Draco when Harry had dragged him to their house. Draco and Harry had woken that morning and had been dismayed to find that it was Christmas Eve. Weasley wasted no time in telling Harry to come to the Burrow and had only raised his fiery brows when Harry invited Draco. He'd wanted to refuse – a day surrounded by people who didn't like him? – but Harry had insisted.

"We'll explain it to them," he'd said.

"Explain?" Draco had replied. "Explain… about us?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug. "They'll be fine."

"But don't they think you're dating their daughter?"

"Oh yeah. Well, we'll explain that too."

Ginevra Weasley had been only too happy to shake off her fake identity as Harry Potter's girlfriend. She gleefully told her stunned family that she was only pretending to date Harry because he'd needed protection from diehard fangirls. And it had been helpful to her as well – no one in the Quidditch league would mess with the love of Harry Potter's life. She seemed so relieved that Harry had been slightly offended.

"Being your girlfriend is hard, Harry," she'd said. Her sparkling brown eyes had gone to Draco then and she'd winked.

Of course everyone wanted to know what had happened to Harry – what happened in the dream state. Together they'd explained, each filling the holes so the story came out pretty much as it had happened – minus certain private details. Everyone had been predictably horrified to find that it had been Voldemort behind it all, but they'd assured everyone that he was truly gone this time.

"Are you positive?" Molly Weasley had asked, her face pale and hands clasped together tightly.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. "I made sure of it."

He explained how he'd killed himself to kill that piece of Voldemort's soul that was left. Draco could see general confusion so he explained how he'd pieced Harry's mind together again – bringing consciousness and memories together by showing the consciousness the portraits.

"I don't get it," Arthur Weasley had said with a frown.

"I'm not sure I do either, sir," Draco replied with a weak smile.

"Well that's all well and good," one of the twins said, "but when did the snogging happen?"

Draco's jaw had dropped and everyone's eyes had turned to him and Harry expectantly. When neither of them would explain, good-natured ribbing commenced. The rest of the evening passed with good food, wine, and a general feeling of family. Having not seen his own family in many years (his mother and father had moved to Italy after the war and wouldn't set foot on British soil and Draco's work usually kept him home during holidays), it was a nice feeling. But soon it became apparent that Mrs. Weasley was melancholy every time she looked between Harry and Draco. Unable to stand it anymore, Draco had approached her.

"I swear," he'd said quietly, "to be good to him."

"Oh, I know dear," she'd replied with a smile, reaching up to pat him on the cheek. Seeing his surprise, she'd continued. "I was just so looking forward to having him as a legal part of the family."

"I don't think he cares about the legal part," Draco replied, glancing over to where Harry was seated with Ron and the twins, who were guffawing loudly. "When I was helping him remember who he was, I said family at one point and all of you appeared to him. He already thinks of you as his family."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled with tears. "Oh. Oh, well that's just… lovely. Thank you for telling me. Merlin knows Harry never would. He's too…"

"Yeah, I know," Draco said with a grin. She'd hugged him then and it reminded him so forcefully of his own mother that he'd had to extricate himself and grab more wine, otherwise he would have ended up bawling like a five year old. Not the best impression to make on people.

As the night had started to come to a close, it was apparent that both he and Harry had imbibed quite a bit of the wine. Well, so had everyone. But Mr. Weasley offered to let them stay, since Harry was coming back the next day anyway. When it was learned that Draco was planning on spending his Christmas alone, he was told quite forcefully by Mrs. Weasley that he was more than welcome to stay as well. Draco took the hint and knew it to mean that leaving was not an option. Harry was delighted.

"But I don't even have presents for anyone," Draco had said.

"Oi," Weasley (Ron, he was supposed to call him Ron), said gruffly. "You gave us Harry back. I think, for this year, that's enough. _Next_ year though…" He trailed off and lifted his eyebrows meaningfully.

He and Harry had been offered the couch, which they'd expanded to fit them both. Draco wasn't used to such… acceptance. Being gay wasn't necessarily a bad thing in the Wizarding world, but never had he seen such tolerance.

Now, under the tree and watching two blurred shapes of fairies dancing together, he thought about it again. Mrs. Weasley had been so sweet, conjuring blankets and pillows, hugging them both.

"They were so… accepting," Draco said finally. "It's weird.

"They're just nice people," Harry replied and Draco felt his shoulders move in a shrug. "All they care about is happiness. They accept everyone. I was really lucky to have met them."

"She thinks of you as a son, you know that right?"

"Yeah, I do. And I think of her as a Mum."

"I almost expected her to demand to know my intentions."

"And what are those intentions, Mr. Malfoy? I think I have a right to know."

Draco grinned. "I intend, Mr. Potter, to have you."

"Have me, you say? And how do you mean, Mr. Malfoy?"

"You're absurd, Harry."

He heard Harry's deep chuckles and they trailed off into silence together, watching the lights. It was oddly mesmerizing.

"HAND CHECK!"

They both jumped in alarm and looked out from under the tree. His vision obscured, Draco could only make out four figures with flaming red hair grouped in the doorway leading to the living room.

"Nope, they're still dressed," came the voice of Ginevra (Ginny, it's _Ginny_).

"Too bad," sighed one of the twins.

"Oh how cute!" said the other. "They're holding hands and cuddling under the Christmas tree! How old are they, anyway? Ten?"

"Bugger off," Harry said with no heat, settling under the tree once more.

"Come on," said Ron. "Let's leave the lovebirds."

"You get any stains on anything and you get to pay to have it cleaned."

"George!" Harry cried, hitting his head on a low branch.

Laughter met their ears as the intruders left once again. They settled down, looking back at the lights, but the magic of the moment was gone. Draco couldn't help but smile, though. He figured that this was what having siblings must be like. It was fun, in an infuriating way.

"Come on," Harry said in irritation. "Let's go to bed."

"Clothes on or off?" Harry looked at him in shock. Draco laughed. "Joking, Harry. Come on."

They got under the covers and slid together almost automatically. Harry laid his head on Draco's arm, then wrapped his own around Draco's middle. It was… perfect. The couch was surprisingly comfortable. But soon he realized that Harry was stiff as a board.

"What's wrong, Harry?" he asked, looking over into Harry's wide green eyes.

"I'm almost afraid to go to sleep," he whispered, looking a bit ashamed.

Draco tightened his arms around him. "I'm here this time. I'll watch out for you. I won't let anything happen to you."

Harry smiled, took a deep breath, and relaxed. Draco watched his eyes close and soon Harry was taking deep, slow breaths. He was asleep. Draco reached for his wand on the table beside the couch. Concentrating, he whispered, "_Legilimens_."

It took some work, because last time he'd simply been pulled into Harry's mind, but this time, because there was no threat, he had to consciously leave his body behind. It was a very odd feeling. But, after a few moments, he managed.

Harry welcomed him into his mind easily. The dream was so familiar, so perfect, that Draco felt completely content. The tree house was exactly as it had been before, with one addition. A Christmas tree was in the corner. It looked exactly like the one in the Burrow. Looking over, he spotted Harry a few feet away, watching him with a soft smile on his face.

"I told you we'd get back here eventually."

Draco grinned. He reached out, pulled Harry close. With his other hand, he conjured more mistletoe above their heads.

"Happy Christmas to me," Draco murmured.

"Happy Christmas to us," Harry replied with a grin before giving him a smacking kiss.

The next morning, Christmas morning, they woke easily, and together, to the smell of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cinnamon buns.

_The End_


End file.
